


Deep Sands

by Psykhes_madness



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Feeding, Kidnapping, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Slow Build, barbarian au, culture clash, tribal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6455752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psykhes_madness/pseuds/Psykhes_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all is what it seems.  The city mecha and the tribes stand divided by a deep mistrust and all it takes to unite them is a simple misunderstanding.  Two such divided mecha begin the journey and it will have to end before war ruins everything.  For on the horizon, a greater enemy lurks.</p><p> </p><p>Please heed the warnings, this one is mature.  While I consider it mostly fluff, I added the 'dubious consent' tag for a reason.  </p><p>There are many more pairings that I will take from other story lines as well and I will update the tags as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Quiet Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I've fallen into the barbarian/tribal AU. I can't get this one out of my head. I have no beta-reader so forgive me if it's a bit disjointed. This one will just flow as I find time to stare at the screen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

Prologue.  Quiet Stars. 

 

  The stars were quiet that cycle, Soundwave mused, following the glitter of Luna-1’s reflected light off the sands of the Rust Sea.  Nearly silent, the dark mech made his way seemingly alone, following a trail only he could see.  His thoughts were broken by shadow that paced him for a bit then darted away only to return as a dark painted cybercat with a petro-rabbit hanging from it’s double jointed jaws.  A curl of amusement warmed it’s way into his field.  He knelt and took the still warm body from the cybercat, a servo smoothing over the cat’s helm.    
    The cat did not purr…nothing so mundane but it did nudge it’s helm a little more firmly into it’s master’s servo before shaking off the pat and taking a swipe at Soundwave.  
  
    The beast master let it.  It was allowed it’s little quirks.  He stood, rust sand falling off his knicked armor, and moved along his previous path, peds leaving deep tracks that the sand filled in instantly.  
      
      
    The joors ticked by and the dark mech still moved along his path.  Sometimes the cybercat jogged at his side and sometimes it darted off to go hunting.  If it was successful it brought it’s catch back to it’s master but more often than not, it was perfectly happy to bound after it’s prey only to let it go in the end.  
    Both dark forms stilled as Luna-1 dropped below the horizon and it’s brighter sister Lunar Base-2 took it’s place.  It’s brighter light slowly etched deeper shadows across the sands and Soundwave could now see his destination.  A formation that could have been a mountain once was slowly revealed.  A sharp trill drew both cat and mech’s attention to the sky and a similar dark shape dropped down to skim low over the sands.  When it reached the pair, instead of circling around, it headed straight for it’s master’s chest plates and docked with the mech.    
  
    Whatever passed between the mech and his aerial attachment had Soundwave jerking his helm around to stare off into the distance.  He didn’t even bother to acknowledge the two other mechs who joined him, moments later, engines cutting the silence.  
    “Soundwave.”  The dark silver mech landed with a final pop of thrusters that sent sand over the cybercat.  The cat hissed and darted behind it’s master unit.  Soundwave himself bowed his helm politely to the other mech, and extended a similar acknowledgement to the dark blue mech behind him.  
    “The tribe has settled into the Tear.  We will stay there until the storm passes.”  The giant unnamed silver mech turned ruby optics to the horizon only to raised a brow plate when the dark mech did not reply.  
    “Beast master?”  The dark blue heavy aerial cocked his helm at the silent Soundwave then followed his gaze toward the opposite way.  
    “A city caravan?”  Soundwave nodded wordlessly.    
      
  
    Silver engines growled and the mech kicked into the air.  He flipped into his aerial form and his engines kicked sand over his champions.  The dark blue mech cursed under his vocalizer.  
    A silent command passed between the cybercat and it’s master.  It jumped onto Soundwaves’ back but instead of claws sinking into proto-form, limbs split apart and plugged into ports hidden by armor that folded back.  The cat easily integrated into dark proto-form quickly then the silent mech leapt into the sky, following the dwindling silver dot.  The dark blue one took two running steps and followed suit.  
      
    The companions were as quiet as powerful aerial mechs could be, engines thundered through the sky but there was no idle chatter back and forth.  Once in the broken remains of the mountain, the three mechs flew in a straight line, one after the other, under and through the twisted metal until the innards opened up into a bowl like depression.  There on the smooth ground where dozens of mechs and femmes, moving about like a well oiled machine.  Some set up heavy mesh tents, adding slick mecha hide over them to funnel the acid run off to the ground.  Some heavier mecha where digging shallow trenches around the tents for the run offer.  Others were propping up the guard shelters for the night watch.  Still others were seeing to the offerings of the hunters and Soundwave peeled off to add his to the pile.    
    “Ah, Soundwave.”  A red mech with obscenely bright polish stood up from organizing the pile to cock a hip at the beast master.  “What have you brought back today?”    
    He handed over the petro-rabbits then kicked off into the sky again.  He landed a moment later beside the silver mech as the giant barked out orders to a small group of armored warriors.  Others paused in their tasks to listen but there was no real concern there.  
    City caravans were barely guarded with mechs in fancy polished armor that was better suited as mirrors than protection.  Warriors fancied peeling the mech out of that armor and taking it back as little trinkets for their mates, sometimes with the mech as their new mate.  It was a common, humorous past time but it underscored just how pathetic city mechs were.  The mechanisms themselves were barely worthy of being called warriors and often the entire group was slaughtered event though the tribe tried to be careful.  They were just too thin plated, better carriers than fighters.  Even the sparklings were better at, well, everything than a city mech.  
      
    Still.  
  
    Free energon was hard to pass up and many times there were pretty things in those strange contraptions they rode in that the tribesmech envied.  Pretty meshs, bright metal, strange weapons, and cut gems along with barrels of energon were transported every dry season along perilous routes that bisected traditional tribal lands.  Their paths cut through sacred lands, drained the few oasis along the way, and left ugly markings for future travelers to use.  
    This might be the last caravan of the season, Soundwave mused as he stared up to track Lunar Base 2’s position.  The tribe was a little late this time too.  Their people should have been closer to home by now but Harper’s little femme had begun to separate.  Though the sparkling was early, it was healthy, but the tribe had had to stay longer at their previous camp then intended.  
  
    The silver giants’ voice rang out and the warriors broke off.  The aerials took to the skies and Soundwave joined them.  His sleeker form over took most of the bulkier mechs but he carefully kept behind the silver mech.  
    :Megatronus.:  Soundwave commed.    
    :Hmm.:  The silver mech acknowledged.  
    :We should make this quick.  The rains are gaining on us.:    
    :Tell your flight drone to keep an optic on the skies then:    
    :Yes, my lord.:  Even as he spoke, armor peeled back and the small drone dropped, unfolded, and barrel rolled away from the group in a smooth motion.  It offered a sharp twitter and circled the group once before it headed off. 


	2. Chapter One.  It is their way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle lust fades into confusion. More questions are asked than are answered.

Chapter 1.

    In the distance, light glittered off a small city that rose like a scar over the landscape. It was a tiny place, having sprung up in the last few vorns. For the most part, the tribes of the Rust Sea left it alone. It was just not worth it. There was no honor in raiding and killing off mechs who were pathetically under trained. Recently, however, the city had overflowed with more thin plated city mechs. The tribes hadn’t cared a bit until the little spring of Trihexa dried up suddenly.  
The blood bath that had followed had been mostly revenge and just a bit of lust. Battle was a glorious past time for the tribes and they had fallen on the little city several times in the last few vorns. Revenge for desecrating the Gifts of Primus in the Realm of Unicron didn’t just happen once and then everything was fine. The grudge lasted for generations.

    Soundwave pulled himself out of his thoughts, privately irritated with himself for letting his processor wander. Not good. Warriors died when they didn’t pay attention. He landed beside Megatronus, engines cycling down as the others landed. They paused just long enough to allow the ground bound warriors to catch up then moved along the sands.  
     All too soon, the road past caravans had cut into the landscape came into sight and moving along it was a group of strange transports. They were low slung hover lifts whose engines hummed and sputtered. Some mechs with bright multicolored plating walked along beside them, holding their weapons in lax servos. At a distance, Soundwave could hear their voices but could not make out any words.  
Not that that would have made a difference. The city mechs spoke such a strange language.

    Soundwave crouched and allowed his cat drone to detach, ordering the cyber-cat to listen to Megatronus’s order as the silver giant split off his warriors to encircle the caravan.

    When the order was given, it wasn’t a surprise. Megatronus waited until the light of Lunar Base-2 slanted off the sands and into the eyes of city mechs before ordering his warriors to attack. The biggest of the hover lifts was targeted first and the heavier armored warriors were directed to it. They rammed into it’s sides with engines red-lined, knocking it off it’s hovers. Alarms blared inside and voices rose in protest. The dark blue aerial landed on top the transport and drove his sword through the ceiling. Peeling back the metal he dropped in with a dark green mech who shared his frame and face plates behind him.  
Megatronus was too busy bowling over a well armored mech who exited the first transport with guns blazing. Soundwave himself picked an opponent who would at least give him a bit of a challenge. He was better armored than his compatriots with a well cleaned blaster in servo. The bright yellow mech took his time lining up his shots and even landed some, knocking the warrior offline.

    That just proved that city mechs had no idea what they were doing.

    Soundwave knocked the yellow mech’s next shot wide and let the little mech settled onto his peds. Bright blue optics locked on and Soundwave was surprised when he unlocked the staff he had assumed was decorative and it’s end lit up with electricity. Soundwave’s scanners confirmed it was enough to offline a mech permanently.  
     The little mech swung the staff around and Soundwave was suddenly on the defensive.  
     :Megatronus, they are better prepared than we anticipated.: He warned.

    His answer was a surprised roar that was echoed by an angry yell.

    :There is no energon here!:

    The aerial twins that had entered the bigger transport kicked open the back door by propelling a body through it. Soundwave brought himself back to his own fight when the yellow mech scored a hit. The end of his staffed tore a ragged line from wrist to shoulder, blistering paint and serving energon lines.  
But what made him roar in fury and pain, surprising even his tribe members, was another mecha latching onto his back plates, cutting down deep into his armor to bury in his proto-form. The weight drove him down. He turned his helm to catch a glimpse of his attacker but something hit his shield, cracking the glass. His cyber-cat drone leapt in to prevent the yellow mech from taking advantage, snarling and hissing in counterpoint to it’s masters’ pain as Soundwave spun around to deal with this new threat. Bright blue smeared away from his fractured vision.  
His aerial drone called down to him, warning him that his opponent was circling behind him. The mecha attacked while he was distracted but this time he blocked the strike, using his greater weight to knock the slight frame back. But then the two city mechs switched, bright blue knocking aside the cyber-cat as bright yellow struck his uninjured arm.  
     This was no ordinary caravan, Soundwave buried his anger and pain beneath his logic algorithm and began to take notice. All of the better trained mechs had been inside the transports and all of them wore a strange brand enameled into their plating. Something small but defined by white and gold and a bit of red.  
He couldn’t recall the exact brand but he didn’t have time to delve too deeply into it. The yellow mech attacked again and this time, Soundwave was prepared and snapped the staff in half. The mech spent too much time lining up his strike and left his weapon out too long. Once the weapon was taken care of, the dark mech reached out and grabbed the severed end of the staff and pulled. The yellow mech stumbled close with a yelp and Soundwave slammed his gauntlet into the side of his helm, letting the body slump to the ground.  
A pulse over his connection had his twisting his head. The cyber-cat leapt back, hissing, now fighting another mech. The blue one was no where around and when he questioned the cat, it whined over the link. The two city guards had done another flawless switch and the cyber-cat was ashamed to admit he had lost track of the blue mech in all the fighting.

    Soundwave plunged his short swords through the new mech, stepping over the body.

    The noise had been deafening but was now rapidly dying away. The familiar whir of Megatronus’s cannon echoed over the now quiet battlefield.

    “Dreadwing!” The silver giant barked and waited as the dark blue aerial joined him, his sword dripping with energon.  
    “There is not a damn thing worth taking!” He snarled.  
    “Every damn transport is empty.” His deep green twin added quietly, well aware he was speaking out of turn. Megatronus inclined his helm, optics burning in anger.  
     “We’ve lost Brawl and Blackout is going into shock from lost of energon.” Barrage spoke up from where he knelt, one servo resting against the helicopter’s vital readouts.  
     “They were prepared, even if they didn’t expect us.” Megatronus muttered.  
     :They were protecting something.:  
     “Or someone.” Red optics shot to Soundwave’s visor and he grunted. The dark mech reached up and eased the glass off, tucking it into subspace and retrieving the spare he kept there. Once it clicked into place, Soundwave recalibrated it.  
     He swept the scene and mentally tallied the dead plain guards to the well trained ones. Mental calculations ran through his processor then stilled as his optics landed on the emblem of white and gold framing a red sigil like wings and a halo.  Different from the plain red enamel emblem of the simple guard.

    They had to be protecting something. But there was nothing.

    Soundwave left the silver mech’s side, silently moving to the back of the nearest transport and inspecting the insides. He ignored the bodies and the damage and moved on. Each of the five transports were studied and Soundwave was left ever more confused.The transports were designed to hold heavy loads like goods or mecha.  It seemed these had only held a few of winged emblem guards each.    
    A waste of fuel for nothing, Soundwave mused as he turned away.

    And then he noticed the tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using certain names because I want to describe a change within a character. Megatronus is being used as a sort of richer sounding tribal name. Since this part of the story is told from the tribes point of view, I thought it might be smoother.


	3. Chapter Two: Wait out the Storm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storms' fury forces two enemies into very close quarters.

Chapter 2.  
  
  
    As the warriors peeled off to begin stripping the transports for anything else that was even remotely useful, a few gathered around Megatronus.  He was standing, back ram rod straight, optics sweeping around the dead and the living.  Soundwave knew without question that he had already noticed the different emblems.  The little yellow mech was declared still living and hauled off to settle within the shade of the transport.  Help from the city would be there soon and none of the tribes mechs claimed the little mech.  
    Soundwave thought it might be because the yellow mech was rather young to be out here.  Or none of the other’s wanted to claim him.  The beast master approached the mech.  Though brave and very skilled, he had no interest in the little yellow mech but he did want something.  
    It had been a few vorn since their last successful raid had left survivors and Soundwave was keen to see if this one’s language packs were still sitting in his processors.  He uncoiled a length of his cable and jacked into the little mechs plug, sifting through his files immediately.  Most mechs deleted their downloads after intergration…he was in luck!  The little yellow mech still had his pack tucked away in a folder with other useless things like soundbytes, music clips, and random videos containing a organic creature similar to his cyber-cat.  Unclipping the cable from the little yellow mech, he stood and stretched, coiling up his cable as he strode away from the battle scene.    
  
    His interest was held by the tracks the glittering sands were already filling in.  They were long and narrow, a deep divet in the back to suggest a strut for a hover.  Grounder then.  However, the track beside it was rather strange.  The mecha was…dragging something?  It was small though.  An average sized grounder would be able to pick it up easily for it was no more than two feet in width and 2 feet in length.  Perhaps it was heavy?  No, for it was no heavier that the one trying to carry it.  The drag tracks wasn’t any deeper than the ped tracks.      Soundwave followed them to a low rise and suddenly the tracks disappeared.  He knelt down, one servo idly applying mesh bandages and crushed crystal to his wounds, optics on the marks instead.  
    He realized that they had not disappeared at all.  Whoever escaped had taken a bit of mesh and swept it over the rust sands to hide their passage.  
    The beast master admired the mechs’ intuition.  He was obviously wounded and therefore unable to carry the only thing of value from the wreckage.  Dragging it would slow him down.  Erasing his tracks would give him time to hide and wait for help.  Whatever he had must be important or at least valuable enough to die for.  
    A glimmer of color in a completely different direction caught his eye and Soundwave carefully approached.  He relaxed as his long fingers sifted a broken bit of bright blue painted armor from the red of the rust sand.  He turned it over and over in his digits.  Light, well made, good paint…he categorized each bit of information and slowly built up a unfinished profile.  
    :Lord Megatronus, I am going after the survivor.:  He commed, dropping the broken armor to the sand, helm going up to scan the horizon.  
    :Very well, beast master.  We shall see you back at camp.:  
    :I advise the ground to erase their tracks.  Whatever the survivor is carrying must be important and more city mechs may follow.:  
    :Do you need any help?:  
    :Negative.  Survivor is claimed.:  Soundwave rolled his shoulder plates and waited for Lord Megatrons’ approval.  It came as a grunt over the comm lines and Soundwave turned his helm to watch as the aerial warriors took to the skies and then skimmed low to let the back wash from their thrusters stir up the sands.  The dark shapes of the grounder warriors moved about to hide other evidence.    
    A fire ball erupted as one of the warriors lit the furthest transport on fire.  It was probably Skyquake, frustrated at the lack of spoils.  Soundwave rolled his optics behind his mask and turned his back on the warriors.  
    :Lazerbeak, scout out north eastern sector of master unit’s present position.  Begin grid pattern.  If any mecha is found, ping visual image and do not engage.:  Soundwave pulled on his bonds.  The cyber cat was at his side a moment later, plating covered in energon and lightly growling.  Lazerbeak dipped over his helm in acknowledgement.  
    :Ravage, hold position and integrate.  Presence, unneeded.:  Once the cybercat was secured he stood and began to follow the dark dot of his aerial unit. He could follow in the sky but sometimes the hunt was far more important.  Energon pumped through his lines, his higher processors shunted off as pure tribe code took over.    
  
    Hunt, track, claim.   
  
    He would have his prize.  Goods, treasures, energon…mate.  It made little difference.  But Soundwave was aware of the mate coding slowly inching up.  The battle lust may have faded but not the hunting drive.  The dark mech rounded the dunes instead of stride over them.  He did not his prey to look back and see him framed by sky.  
      
    Lazerbeak pinged him as Lunar Base-2 dipped low in the sky and the twin moons took her place.  Lunar-3 and the fourth moon signaled the dusk of the cycle and Soundwave craned his neck to see into the distance.  The mech was heading out toward the wastelands.  Not good.  Only a well prepared tribe headed out there and neither of them were well prepared.  
     His aerial unit’s sudden ping had him picking up his speed.    
    The mech had collapsed.  An grainy image sent by his drone showed a bright blue mech kneeling in the sands, servos pressed tight against a boxy shadow.  
    :Status, Lazerbeak?  Visual displays disrupted.:  Soundwave questioned, easing into battle readiness.  The drone sent back a diagnostic display.  Damaged taken in battle showed direct hit on the aerial units core processor.  It was still capable of flight but Soundwave detected that the shot was meant to disrupt the drones’ cameras, not kill.    
    The dark mech eased around the dune, crouching when a bit of motion ahead startled him.  Lazerbeaks’ warning came too late as sand shifted behind him.  Soundwave spun even as a lithe frame struck down.  The mech had slid down the sand dune while he had been distracted and used his momentum and weight to knock Soundwave off his peds.  Behind his mask, Soundwave grit his dentas to stifle the grunt of pain when he landed on his back.  His optical array short circuited and for a kilk all he could see was static and a reverb wave echoed from Ravage.  Shaking off the distortion, Soundwave gained his peds again.    
      
    The mech before was small, bright blue, and not a mech.  She was a cycle mode or so Soundwave believed.  The hover wheels attached to her heels were typical of the mode frame the city mech’s liked.  Her bio lights were pale with fatigue but she kept the quiver out of her limbs.    
    That same winged enamel brand stood out, bright and unspoiled on her collar armor.  
    Soundwave rolled his shoulder plates, flicking the blades hidden in his armor so that they clicked into forward position.   
  
    It wasn’t a pretty, noble, fight.  Sand and energon flew every where.  Both combatants were already tired and wounded.  Soundwave managed to grab ahold of a blue winglet and slammed the lighter frame into the sand.  She gave a garbled shout and kicked up with her heels, digging the rim of her hover into his wounded side.  
    He let go with a grunt and stumbled back as she rolled away to her peds.  One short blade shifted back into her armor to reform as a blaster.  Her shot went a little wide and glanced off his leg.  His longer sword arced down through the air, cutting deep into the sand when she dodged.  The femme tumbled when she lost her balance in a crumbling sand dune and she rolled down the sloping side.  Soundwave followed when the sand beneath his peds gave way.  
      
    At the bottom, he lay on his back panting while a few mechanometers away, the little blue femme lay curled on her side.  Vents heaved and engines stalled out from exhaustion and sand and the oppressive heat.  Soundwave turned his helm to look over at his blue opponent and decided that was enough.  She lay still, making a little groaning sound every now and then, and weakly twitching.  
    He watched as she pushed herself to her back plates, winglets folding down, and tilted her helm to look at him.  Pale blue optics, ringed in a now faded pink, glared at him and Soundwave returned it with a blare of static.  She winced and blinked, coughing up heat air and sand.  
    Weakly, she rolled over again and pushed up to her servos and knee pads.   Shakily, she gained her peds only to stumble back again as sand shifted beneath her.  Soundwave pressed a servo to his wound and began to laborious process of getting up.    
  
    Once he was up on his peds, the two eyed each other.  Energon dripped from oozing wounds, air was cycling fast through wide open vents, and their sparks were pulsing so loud, each was sure the other could hear it.  
    The little femme held up her blades but her attention slipped instead to the box half buried in the sand perched on top of the dune.  
    Soundwave rushed her, his own blade slicing right through the connectors between her armor and weapon.  She fell back with a shriek, bringing her other weapon up.  Before she could sight down the barrel, his servo clamped down, breaking struts.  He drove down with his weight on top of her, kicking her legs out until her back plates hit the sand hard.  This time, her winglets didn’t tuck flush and he heard a dull snap.  
    She screamed, optics flashing bright with build up charge then flickered off.  The little femme slumped beneath him, limbs going still and broken parts sparking.  Soundwave stayed where he was a moment longer before he too slumped to the ground, rolling beside her.  
    He heat dumped his exhaust and vents, giving the command to flood his systems with coolant.  Static flashed across his visor and he groaned.  Lazerbeak trilled in sympathy, landing beside him and cooing when his visor rolled her way.  With another groan, the dark mech pushed himself over until his back was free to release Ravage.  
    The cyber-cat sprang away but circled back to hiss at the prone femme.  Soundwave didn’t have the energy to reprimmand the drone and for a few long kliks the only sounds that echoed around the dunes where whirling vents and angry hissing.  The mech gave a tired sigh and called the cyber-cat off with a firm silent command but did not stop Ravage from circling warily.  
    :Find us a place to rest for the night cycle.:  He ordered when he had the strength.  :We need to secure shelter before the first rains hit.:    
    Soundwave heaved himself to his peds, tugging on the broken arm he still held and half flinging the blue frame over his shoulder.  Lazerbeak took off but Ravage headed back up the dune for the box.  
  
    The strange group moved away from the Wastelands, one optic on the darkness heading toward them and the other on the shifting cooling sands, desperate for a settled lee-side dune for some protection from the acid storm bearing down on them.   
    Soundwave suddenly stopped when Lazerbeak swooped low ahead of them and quickly made his way to the large dune.  He signaled to Ravage then propped the femme against the box.   
    Quickly, he set up his smaller hunting tent, his motions frantic but practiced.  Soundwave could hear a low hissing sneaking along the dunes as the rain began.  Just as he placed the box inside the tent, the first drops hit his tent and the storm swept over them.  His drones scrambled inside.  Lazerbeak integrated with a tired chirp and Ravage slunk to the entrance, optic on the desert.  Grateful for the watchful drone, Soundwave turned to his opponent.  Thick blunt digits cleared dried energon from her wounds, sealed off ruptured lines, and dug out the broken struts.  He withdrew his supplies from subspace and finished bandaging her wounds before tending to his own.  Finally he withdrew a small stoppered jug and  tugged off his dusty visor.  The beast master proceeded to drain the jug.  Dribbles of bright glowing energon ran down his chin.  Soundwave stood, setting the now empty jug along the far wall of the tent.  He moved the box away from the femme, throwing a hide over it as he began to dig out his belongings.   
  
    Most of his things had been left back at camp but every tribesmech carried supplies with them in cases such as sudden storms or emergency hunting trips.    
  
    Kneeling beside the femme, he un-spaced a length of rope.  His servos were still shaking with exhaustion and it took him several attempts but he finally got the femmes servos tied together.  He knotted the rope to the support pole of his tent and settled in beside her.  Systems cycled down as exhaustion finally over took him     
    Soundwave blacked out as the storm howled around them.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been updating some things because I didn't like what was happening the chapters. I also added some stuff that I felt was missing so there are some new things in the previous chapter! Sorry for any confusion.


	4. Chapter Three.  Storm moves on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of the courtship at the end of the storm.

Chapter 3.  Storm moves on.  
  
    Soundwave came to and simply listened to the gentle patter of acid drops on the tent for several long kliks.  He lay there, visor shifting through various settings before he finally opted for the one with the most visibility.  The inside of the tent was dim and it was dank with the smell of wet.  Outside the acid rain had lessened but it’s hissing didn’t sound any less dangerous.  The dark mech rolled over, optics gliding over the still form of the blue femme and landed on Ravage.  The cyber-cat flicked an ear shell back at him but it’s optic didn’t leave the acid drowned desert outside.  
    His vents coughed, startling him, as Soundwave pushed himself up, folding his long limbs beneath him and began to dig for another ration jug.  This time, he drained it slowly, syncing his systems for a manual transfusion.  He settled back and rolled his shoulder plates, hissing a little at the pull of healing proto-flesh and set the jug aside.  
    The beast master rolled the little femme to her side, blunt digits finding her medical panel.  He eased it open with a few gentle strokes then plugged in when it reveal two shiny ports.  Her sleepy systems barely acknowledged him and the manual fuel port in her back plates irised open with a gentle push.    
  
    Now came the unpleasant part.  
  
    With a hidden grimace, Soundwave unlatched his own open manual fuel port and attached the only thing he had on hand, a thick line he had taken from an alloy-gator on a hunt last season.  It was useful for something like draining energon from a electo-cacti but he never once believed he would use it for this.  
    When he had plugged into the femme, he started the process of filtering energon into her fuel tank and leaned back against the support pole of his tent with a heavy sigh.  
    He stroked her unbroken winglet with gentle fingers, mostly to keep his processors off the uneasy feeling of pouring his own fuel into another frame.  It left a hollow feeling in his filtration systems and that always made him queasy.    
      
    When her systems began to cycle up into awareness, he stilled his servo on her winglet, visor titling down to watch her rouse.  She started up with a brightening of her bio lights first, pale white slowly shimmering into a sharp blue.  She twitched her peds, then her hips rotators, then her shoulder pads.  When her broken winglet moved, her made a startled sound and finally her optics snapped on.  
    Glowing blue ringed with a pink several shades deeper than the sweeping cheek arches on either side of her face plates.  They were rather pretty, he mused.    
    He shifted next to her and she fixed those glowing optics on him.  Soundwave frowned a bit behind his visor as she glared at him.  That wasn’t quite the reaction he wanted but he really wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.  The beast master unclipped the fueling hose and rolled it back up.  She had enough to jump start her repair nanites and that was all he wanted at the moment.      
      
    The rest of her fuel would come from his servo alone.  
  
    And that would have to wait until he could hunt, he mused as his attention drifted back to the open tent flap.  Ravage hadn’t moved from it’s position, only it’s cable appendage lashed back and forth.  Clearly the drone was not pleased.  
    The femme suddenly lashed out, one ped kicking back into his bent leg.  She wrenched her frame around, hoping to try and break the tent support to free her servos but tribesmech built their shelters to withstand quiet a lot.  Soundwave rolled away from her reach and settled back to watch her thrash about until she tired herself out.    
    They lapsed back into their silent stare down.  When he shuffled forward, she bared her dentas at him.  
    ‘And they called us wild beasts.’  He snorted to himself.  The dark mech instead turned his back on her, rummaging through his supplies.  He knew he had a more well-stocked med-kit…aha!  He tugged it out and set it top the hide covered box.  His well tuned audial sensors knew that the little femme had stilled behind him and he realized that the hide had slipped off the box  
    He would leave that for later, he thought as he turned back to his new ward.  She was now glaring out at him from underneath the rim of her helm, sharp optics following him around.  The femme had worked her way up into a sitting position, leaning a bit to the side to accommodate both broken winglet and tied servos.  Soundwave ignored her, pulling out the convex stone bowl he used as a stove.  Her helm cocked to one side when he broke a couple of crystals and scattered them into the bowl.    
    Heat and light flickered to life and Soundwave held his servos out over it.  Warmth began to suffuse the tent, dispelling the cold and damp.  
  
    He redressed his own wounds first, examining the new lines and healing plating.  Some he could leave alone but the ones on his shoulder plating (from her blades) and the line the yellow mech tore open on his arms would have to be mended by a medic.    
    A medic who was probably halfway to haven by now.  Soundwave made an irritated sound and knotted the mesh bandages a little tighter than necessary.  With a grunt he levered himself to his peds, sweeping his shelter with a quick optic before he moved to the door way.    
    The acid rain was still coming down but it was little more than a drizzle.  A fine mist of the acrid smelling stuff crept about, just outside their tent.  Soundwave was in no mood to go out and hunt in that soup of pain.  He flopped back down instead, rubbing his drones audial shells.    
    They stayed like that for several long moments, maybe a joor or two, each being lost in their own thoughts.  The dark mech could just feel the femmes’ optics on him.  A growl from her fuel tanks shattered the dim silence.  When he turned his visor to her, the look of horror on her faceplates almost made him laugh.  
    Almost.  
  
    Instead he crawled across the hides to her, pulling a small carved box along with him.  He opened it, withdrew a small jar and popped its lid open with a well practiced flick of his thumb.  HIs digits found a small bit of flesh and, with a shiver of anticipation, he offered it to the femme.  
    Her optics darted to it, then his visor, then back to it.  A grimace passed over her face.  Soundwave made a noise like static and pushed it toward her lip plates.  The blue femme jerked her helm away and tried to kick him again and this time he shifted to sit on her leg struts.  
    She yelped and jabbered away at him, growling when he tried to maneuver the bit of flesh into her mouth.    
  
    She bit him.  Tiny blunt teeth clamped down on his digits and he dropped the cyber flesh, not in pain, but in surprise.  She didn’t hurt him, not really.    
  
    He pulled away, towering over the little femme.  The pair stayed like that, neither giving in a silent battle of wills.  Bright blue bio-lights flared in challenge and his own deeper indigo lights pulsed back.  
    They would have remained like that if the cyber-cat hadn’t snorted at them.    
  
    Truly, they were being ridiculous.  
  
    Both helms whipped about to stare at the drone.  Ravage didn’t bother turning around.  
  
    In her inattention, her lip plates were slightly open and Soundwave took the opportunity to slip the bit of flesh between them.  Her helm jerked back, her vocalizer made a startled screech, and her optics cycled wide.  
    He clamped a servo over her mouth plates to stop her from spitting it back in his visor.  
  
    If look could kill, he would have been struck down dead.  
  
    She glared at him the whole time she chewed and when she was finished, she gave a frame rattling shudder as she swallowed.  A curl of amusement went through him and it must have filtered into his field because her optics narrowed at him.  Soundwave sat back and slipped a bit of cyber flesh into his own mouth.  When he offered her another slice, she turned her face plates away in disgust.  He didn’t withdraw it and let his EM field push against hers.  The femme grimaced and accepted it, optics screwed shut the entire time she chewed.  
    The back and forth feeding lasted until the small jar was empty and Soundwave carefully capped it and put it back in it’s box.  He would need to hunt with in the next Lunar rising and he rather hoped his repair functions would allow him to do just that.  The acid mist was slowly burning off as Lunar Base One rose but the sands were still wet with it, he realized when he stuck his helm out.  Another cycle in this spot would be beneficial to both their armor and repairs.    
    Ravage integrated with him at his command and Lazerbeak dropped down to cover a watch shift.  It gave a chirp at the femme and circled the tent once before settling down in the same pillow Ravage had been lounging on.

  
    With a gentle remainder to the drone, Soundwave settled down next to the femme and rearranged her bindings, loosening them just a bit to allow a slightly greater range of movement.  He did loop a length of the rope through her ankle struts even when she tried to kick him again.  That was a rather annoying habit of hers and one he would have to address sooner rather than later, he thought as he pinned her to the ground once more and finished tying the rope off.  
    Once she was in a more comfortable position, the dark mech examined the little winglet. With careful digits he unwrapped the strut, cleaning the old nanites off protoform and chipping away dead metal then setting it a little higher before he wrapped it in place.  Soundwave put everything away and finally settled down.  He snuggled in beside her and pulled her up against him, mindful of her broken winglet.  She made a startled noise and struggled, her helm tilted back to stare at him in surprise.  She spoke to him, her voice oddly soft in the heavy stillness of the tent but he didn’t pay her much attention as he settled them carefully into the hides.    
    He slipped his servo under her to support her winglet and a quick scan showed that it would be able to be reset into it’s proper position come Twins Sisters rise so Soundwave set his chronometer for that.  

  
    With that, he plugged into her cortex with a cable and sent her systems into shutdown, adjusting her repair status, and dropped offline himself.  He didn’t bother to unplug himself.               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mechanical lingo is hard. Still working on the 'depths' and character of this story


	5. Chapter Four: Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things slowly change.

Chapter Four.  Daybreak  
  
    Lunar Base 1 rose quietly, light reflecting and filtering across the rust desert.  A tent was nestled in the lee side of dune, mostly protected from sight of any one creeping in from the Wastelands.  
    Soundwave suddenly snapped awake, every line and pump in his frame coming online at once.  He sat up quickly, cables pulling taunt.  He grimaced as he separated them.  A servo drifted over the slowly rousing femme and he moved toward the door silently.  
      
    There it was again.  
  
    The sound of an engine reverberated through the air.  He hunched down, hidden optics scanning the skies from the entrance of the tent.  Those engines were very familiar.  He just didn’t want to see the mech right now.  Not with the un-bonded femme in his tent.    
    Skyquake landed in a flurry of sand and thruster backdraft.  The mech rolled his helm and approached the tent.    
    Soundwave greeted him with a warning rumble as he stepped into view, pulling the tent flap closed behind him.  Skyquake grumbled in return but accepted the beast masters warning and stopped a respectful distance away.  
    “Megatronus was worried.”  His deep voice echoed in the still air.  “We got a bit of a problem.  Saw a flock of Seekers on the way to haven and a dust trail that might be Praxians.  Didn’t get close enough to find out.  Megatronus and some of the aerials set up a flight perimeter just to keep watch.”  
    :How far are they from this position?:  Soundwave interrupted.  
    “Their path seems to be meandering but it has the fury of a hunt.  I would say 3 orn at best.”  
    Soundwave let his engines roar once in anger.  He settled on his hunches and Skyquake followed suit.  The deep green aerial began to trace a crude map in the rusty sand.  
    “Your path should not intersect theirs if you pass by the boom base.”  Skyquake actually grimaced and rubbed the back of his helm.  The darker mech cleared his vocalizer with a cough.  
    :No other way?:  Soundwave asked almost desperately.  
    “Only into the edges of the Wastelands.”  Soundwave stood suddenly and startled Skyquake into silence.  
    :No, I will not go there.:  
    “Why not, beast master?  If it’s supplies you’re worried about, I carry more with me on Megatronus’s orders.”  He was reaching into subspace as he said this, pulling out a wooden crate of jugs then another.  Soundwave took them gratefully.  
    :We shall take the path by the city mechs base.  Hopefully, this time it will not explode.:  Soundwave said ruefully.  :Fly ahead and keep an eye on the wing-kin for Megatronus.  He will want to know what they are up to.”  
    “Do you not want company on the trek back?”  Skyquake cocked his helm quizzically.  
    :No.:  Soundwave turned about to head into his tent.  :Thank you for the supplies and the warning.  I shall be back in haven before the storm season starts.:  
    “Why are you out here anyway?”  The green aerial shifted on his peds, crossing his gauntlets over his canopy.  “Megatronus wouldn’t say a word when we got back to the tear.”  
    :I was on the hunt.:  
  
    Skyquakes optics shot to the tent and spiraled wide.  He took a step back, engines whirling in surprise.  Quickly he averted his optics and mumbled an apology.  He shot into the air and transformed without waiting for Soundwaves' acknowledgement.  The dark mech huffed in amusement, turning his back on the aerial when he looped the campsite before turning off.      
    Soundwave was not surprised to see the little femme awake when he finished straightened up.  He wasn’t even surprised to see her glaring at him.    
    The feeding ritual went much as it had the last time.  She bit him again.  He force-fed her just enough to fuel her up.  Her optics followed him around the tent as he gathered the hides and packed away the hunting supplies into his subspace.  When he got to her box, however, it resisted his attempts.  His spines flicked in surprise and he titled his helm in her direction.  Her expression was just shy of being smug and she arched a brow plate at him.  
  
    Oh, yeah, this was going well.  
      
    He released Ravage and called Lazerbeak back from her hunt as he untied the femme.  He tugged her and the box outside, setting them both in the sand with a firm command to Ravage to watch her.  
    Dismantling the small hunting tent took only a few short moments and he sub-spaced the compact bundle.  
    Where once a tent stood, now there were only deep hole from the poles that were rapidly being filled in with sand.    
    Once nothing remained of their presence, Soundwave stood.  The femme had only tried to get away once but Ravage had wrestled her back down.  Cyber-cat sat on blue plating, idly cleaning a paw.  The femme was cursing under her vocalizer, making little spitting noises as she shifted underneath.  The mech rolled his optics and suddenly remembered the language packet.  With hidden delight, he activated it, however his delight turned in a grumble as the packet registered incompatible with his systems.  He set his processor to breaking down the code and sighed when it set a timer for one full orn.    
    One full orn of not understanding each other…perfect.  
  
    He shooed the cyber-cat off and took the rope in his digits, motioning to the femme to stand as he tucked her box under one arm.  She fought of course but in the end it was either walk or be dragged.  
    Her muttering was the only sound in the desert for the next few joors.  
  
    Luna-1 was ending it’s decent and Lunar Base-2 was rising when the strange group came around a dune and startled a small herd of petro-antelope.  The spiral horned beasts lowed at them and spun on wide hooves but Soundwave and Ravage were faster.  The drone took off like a shot while Soundwave dropped both leash and box, armor shifting back as he lined up his shot.  The last antelope dropped offline from both the drone bringing it down and the hunters’ shot.       
    He didn’t have long to gloat over his kill as Soundwaves’ attention was drawn back to his prisoner.  Both box and femme were moving in the opposite direction…though not very fast.  With a hum-like sigh, Soundwave left Ravage to guard the kill and ran in long, loping strides.  The femme shouted at him and when he got close enough, tried to use the leash as a whip to keep him away.  He caught it, looped it around his wrist and tugged.  With a startled yelp, the femme fell face plates first into the sand.  The dark mech knelt and used the length the rope to fashion a sort of sling for the box then lifted both it and the femme over his shoulders.    
    He would not be able to carry this weight for long but for the moment it would do.  
  
    Setting Ravage to watch the femme, Soundwave quickly skinned the petro-antelope.  He tossed aside the entrails, they would spoil before he could preserve them anyway.  The rest of the protoflesh was carefully quartered and wrapped in the hide with the pump and other bits of tubing that could be saved.  Some of the struts were carefully folded into the hide as well and when he stood, he had a neat gory little bundle.    
    The femme was inching away from Ravage when he turned around.  The whole time the cyber-cat had been sitting on the end of her leash, happily gnawing away on the tubing he had thrown aside earlier.  Soundwave pulled out some of the poles for his tent and lashed them together with a tougher hide to form a sort of sling and set the whole thing down.  He carefully placed the box in the center with the fresh kill and tied the whole contraption around his middle.  He cast his optic around the desert as he drew the femme to her peds.  
  
    There was little left for the scavengers as the trio resumed their trek.      
  
    The entire time, the femme chatted at him.  From the tone of her vocalizer, he was sure she was saying some rather unpleasant things.  The look on her face plates when he would look over his shoulder plates was oddly innocent.  He didn’t believe it for a second.  She swung the rope between them like a child would with a skipping rope, whipping it back and forth through the air.  He drew it tighter, forcing her a step closer to him.  A snide comment would escape her every now and then.  
   
    Moon Base-2 began to set and on the far horizon the Twin Sisters were barely visible.  Ravage had integrated with him and Lazerbeak had been released to fly lazy loops around in the fading sky when the land bound mecha stopped.  Soundwave padded about, searching for a suitable spot to spend the off cycle.  
    It was hotter that off cycle, and once the tent was up, he left off one wall, hoping to keep them cool as they recharged.  With a happy trill, Ravage bounded into the shade and started a heat dump cycle, circling about once, twice, tail to nose before it settled into the cushy hides.  
    Only once the femme was securely tied to the support pole did he go back out and began to prepare the petro-antelope.  
    With careful digits and a very sharp knife, he sliced the proto-flesh thin and set it aside.  The tubing was cleaned out with a bit of energon from an jar he carried for just this purpose and then the pump was inspected.  It was a rudimentary piece of equipment and once he cleaned it up, it might be good for something.     
    If not, Swindle could have it.  He could barter it at some city-mech’s outpost and con half the tradable goods while he was at it.  
  
    The hide was carefully tended to and the hole where his shot had killed the beast was sewn with a strut needle and some tin sinew.  It was beautiful, the warm spicy color of the bottom of the fur blending into a richer hue of indigo.  It was a natural coloring so that all a hunter would see would be rust sand and indigo sky.  But it horns were it’s biggest giveaway.  The energon colored this a deeper pink that edged on purple and the crystalline stalks glowed even after death.  
    These were good courting gifts and he presented them to the femme on bended knee pads.  
    Her optics darted to the hide and then his visor then back to the horns before settling back on his visor.  He placed them in her lap and when she didn’t throw them off right away, he took that as a good sign.  The beast master wasn’t foolish enough to believe that was all it would take but for now it was enough.    
    Accepting gifts meant she was considering his offer.  And that meant no one else could offer once they were safe in haven.  As he was pulling out the bowl stove, he cast a subtle glance over his shoulder and smiled behind the glass of his visor.  She had adjusted her leg struts so one of the horns was more or less in her lap and she was admiring it.  
    The heat slowly gave way as the desert began to cool but the stove kept the little tent warm.  He set some slices of proto-flesh on to cook and once again knelt in front of her.  He gently tapped his chest, bringing her attention to him and said,  
    “Soundwave.”  He vocalizer cracked, rusty from disuse and injury and his spark flared at little at her wince.  It hurt no matter how many times it happened.  
    When she glanced up at his visor, he realized some of that hurt had bled into his field and hers pulsed back at him briefly.  The acceptance was there beneath the wariness but there was no lingering sympathy.  still, she chirped back at him and it sort of sounded like his name  
    “ ‘ouwond’ave.”  Her face plates screwed up at her own horrendous attempt and he chuckled a bit.  It was more of a rolling purring from his engine but she got the idea.  A stream of chatter erupted from her and then she just huffed.  She said something that was neither a question nor an answer, but was more of board statement.  
      
    He really wished the language packet would finish installing.  
      
    One ped tip tapped his chest plates and he reared back, startled.  Was that an aborted kick or a poke?  She gestured to her own chest plates with her knee pad and opened her lip plates, ready to say her own designation in return.  
    In a rush, he towered over her and clapped a servo over her lips, cutting off what she had been about to say.  
  
    He didn’t know why he stopped her.  With her name as his, she would be his mate.  The whole courtship would be over.  There would be no need to sneak back into haven.  She would be safe, she would be his.  
  
    Surprise rippled between their fields and the tension suddenly began to rise as he slowly removed himself.  
  
    He didn’t want her designation.  Not yet.  
  
    The flesh bubbled merrily on the stove and he plucked it off with shaking digits, stirring it in the air to cool it.    
    The femme still turned her helm away in disgust when he offered it but this time it was only in token resistance.  She ate with only one small shudder, bright blue optics following him around as he set about to pack away the rest of the proto-flesh and her new gifts.  
    When he sat behind her and carefully touched her winglets, she stilled all over again.    
  
    Same thing, over and over again.  Soundwave snorted, his vents dumping disgruntled air on her and she scowled over her shoulder at him.  
  
    When it came time to recharge, she fought him and he delighted in wrestling her down.  The earlier tension didn’t vanish but it did dissipate as they rolled across the hides playfully.  The length of rope pulled taunt and she jerked in place as her arms were pulled back.    
  
    This time, they ended up face plates to face plates, vents pumping hot air out into the cooling desert.  One servo was cupped under her back, keeping her weight off her winglet.  The other he brought slowly up to trace her cheek rims.  When she tilted her chin away, his servo hung there.  Oh so slowly he touched her again and this time, she didn’t pull away.  
  
    When they settled down into recharge, the crystals in the bowl were mere embers and the air was still cool.  Soundwave drew a blanket over them, tucking it around her.  She just mucked it all up again when she snuggled in, burrowing her helm underneath his chin.  
  
    Sometime during the dark cycle, an internal alarm gently chimed as a file finished downloading.    


	6. Chapter Five:  A Different Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Arcee's point of view, he wasn't a bad looking mech. Too bad she didn't understand a word he said...or didn't say as the case may be.

Chapter 5.  A Different point of view.  
  
    The edge of the hide, hardened by heat and rusty sand, made an oddly disjointed sound as it tap, tap, tapped on the pole.  As the pressure and wind changed, it would hover in the air for a moment then tap, tap, tapped again.  Arcee didn’t realize she was awake until the hide fluttered in the wind, opening wide enough to see the unbroken view of the desert.  
    It slapped down hard enough to startle her and as she jerked in place, she roused her berth-mate.    
  
    Well, if she had a berth…  
  
    The dark mech, ‘ound’ave, came online with hum of engines, a twitching of actuators, then his bio-lights brightened.  He raised his helm from the strange soft thing he had scattered about and the femme was once again a  little unnerved by that blank stare.    
    “Morning.”  She mumbled.  She wasn’t much of a morning person but what do you say when you wake up in a mech’s arms?  
    He gave her a rolling trill, shifting forward just a bit.  Arcee’s optics widened and her spark began to spin faster.  The heavy crest of his helm slowly brushed against her pink spire, the warm spot there connecting with the red jewel.  He gently pressed against her for a long moment and the little blue femme never felt so very aware of that place before.    
  
    It was, by far, the most intimate gesture she had ever been gifted.  
  
    When he pulled away, those long blunt digits of his traced her cheek rims.  The dark mech suddenly made a soft warble and his visor whited out.  He brought a servo up to his helm as he swayed on his servos and kneepads.    
    “Hey, you alright?”  Arcee asked softly, feeling her spark drop to her tank.  He rumbled and drew her up to lean against the tent pole.  The mech moved away from her, shifting some hides away to pull out those heavy boxes he stashed everything in.  
    She frowned as those jars came out again and he offered her the first bite.  Arcee’s tanks roiled, either in hunger or disgust, she couldn’t tell.    
    “No chance, mech.”  She snapped, twisting her helm away.  Ugh, nasty stuff!  The sight of it made her want to purge, and she wasn’t even gonna get started on the smell!  
    He rumbled at her and her optics narrowed.  
    “Don’t get snippy with me!  I know you’ve got energon in there!”  She planted her ped on his chest and pushed him toward the box again.  It irritated her on a certain level that he only rocked back slightly, as though her push didn’t mean anything.  
    “I drink energon, I don’t chew it.”  She snapped.    
  
    Arcee paused to draw in a vent, cooling her vocalizer and the fragger did the same thing he had done in the previous attempts to feed her.  His servo snapped forward and he pushed the bit of proto-flesh between her lips.  This time, she chewed in angry silence, puffing her plating out.  
     The rest of her ‘meal’ followed in relative ease and silence.  She was hungry and she wasn’t about to fight him any further.  Arcee never knew when he would take away the only source of nourishment out here and she needed all the strength she could get.  The packing away of the tent went about much the same way only this time, the bundle of hide-wrapped-around-horns was tied onto the sling with her box  
  
    The box.  
      
    Arcee’s eye’s drifted over it.  The dark gunmetal surface was barely marred by the scuffing it had received the last few orns.  Even the tumble down the sand dune hadn’t even put a scratch in it.  
    Another rumble, this time in warning, drew her attention and gaze back to ‘ound’ave.  The cyber-cat was set free and he picked up the lead again to draw her to her peds.    
    “We could go faster if you let me transform, you know.”  She huffed  
    “By the way, where are we going?  Not that I really expect you to answer but since it’s really boring just staring at your aft all cycle long.  And it’s a fine aft, I’m just saying.”  
  
    Arcee continued on this vine for several long joors, often taking time to stop and listen to the endless silence and the soft crunch of rust under their peds.  She acknowledged that it was very out of character for her to simply talk but she was so bored!  There was only so many times she could look up to track the progress of the moons or count the spines on the dark mech’s back.  Sometimes, he would pause and turn to cock his helm at her, almost like he was actually listening and understanding her.  
   
    But mostly, he let her be.  
  
    She was telling him a funny story about her last patrol partner in the Iaconi guard when he stopped, those spines of his shot up.  Her jaw clicked shut and she watched him drop her lead and slide down the dune into the shade.  The cobalt blue femme frowned when he rounded it’s edge but returned a short kilk later with something cupped tenderly in his servos.  ‘ound’ ave began the laborious climb back up the slithering sands to stand before her.  The dark mech was silent, even more so than before and then he tenderly held his servos out.  Sitting in his palm, cradled in his digits was a flower.  Arcee’s optics widened in surprise.    
    It was a small blossom and it’s five filament petals were sharpened into points.  It was colored a deep blue on it’s edges that lightened into a sort of blue white.  In it’s throat where three wires that jutted out, little bright lights dangling from the ends.  
    He tucked the wired stem behind the curve of her cheek rim as it sloped back and she could just barely see it’s petals on the edge of her vision.  A very faint charge drifted up from it’s petals and it tickled her plating.  It wasn’t distracting or anything but it did make her laugh a bit if she turned too fast, it’s charge dancing over her armor.  
      
    “Well, this is all very romantic,”  She hummed, reaching up with her bound servos to brush a digit tip across one silky petal, “But it doesn’t change my mind.  First chance I get, I’m kicking your aft and getting back on the road to Iacon.”  
    “Not that this hasn’t been a pleasant detour, but I am so ready to be out of the desert.  I want a wash and a oiling.  I need the wash but an oiling is just a want.”  
  
    Arcee chatted on to fill the long silences.  The quiet mech moved so silently she only heard the slither of the rust sand below his peds and soft hum of his systems in the stillness.    
  
    Miles and miles and miles of stillness.  The blue femme lagged behind a bit and let the lead stretch tight.  There was nothing to look at, nothing to keep her attention.  She huffed and tossed her helm back with a groan, staring up at the moons above them.  
    The lead twitched and she snapped her helm down, wondering what could have possibly escaped her notice way out here.  
    The dark mech’s visor was pointed toward the horizon where she could see a faint speck in the far distance.  It didn’t look like much, but it did rise above the dunes enough to be noticeable.  She cocked her helm to the side, her cheek rims twitching, curiosity bubbling within her.  She had no knowledge of a fort or holding out here so it was possible it was a barbarian structure.  Did they even have structures?  
    ‘ound’ave seemed to sag and made a sub-audial trilling sound, almost like a whimper.  His spines even drooped.  It was the most expressive she had seen him out in the open like this and she laughed.  She knew he was pouting when that blank visor turned toward her.  
    “Not my fault you’re acting like a sparkling.”  She waved him off.  
  
    He trudged along, one servo loosely trailing her lead.  Occasionally he would stop and cock his helm as though listening to something before he moved on.  Arcee found that the closer they got the more distinct the object turned out to be.  
    A plateau rose above the Rust Sea, neatly sloping along it’s side until it flattened out in three distinct levels.  On the highest point was a weather station and a landing platform, she could make out the caution lights from here.  A bubble of hope sprang up until the stillness and quiet burst it.    
    It wasn’t an active one.  A sigh earned her another questioning trill from the mech and she waved him off with a sharp gesture.  
  
    The second level seemed to be a series of low buildings and the lowest level was one full complex with arching windows.  
  
    Other than that, it was difficult to see anything else.  
  
    As she studied the out-of-place looking structure, the dark mech snapped his helm around, focusing in on the north this time.  A very faint cloud bloomed up on the horizon.  It could have been another dust storm but he knew better.  Spines jittering in the air, he released the flying symbiote who chirped at Arcee as it swooped past her, heading out toward the dust cloud.    
    “Ah, not another one.”  Arcee moaned.  She had tracked the airborne drones’ path and was only now noticing the cloud on the horizon.  
  
    ‘ound’ave suddenly stopped and began to dig around in his subspace, pulling out one of the bags that usually held neatly folded meshes.   He seemed to decide between two of them and shook out a pale soft green one with a faded gold border.  With a tug of the lead, he pulled her close and drew the mesh about her, tucking the fluttering edges.  He picked up her bundle of hide and horns and thrust it into her servos, neatly slipping the lead in the outer layer of the hide.  For a second, Arcee thought that she might be able to take off but the dark mech released his quadrupedal symbiote, who twitched at some unspoken command and began to prowl behind her.  For further insurance, he lashed the box down tighter and suddenly drew her to his side.  
    “Hey, I can walk on my own.”  She snapped, fumbling between her bound servos, her sudden burden, and the rather fast pace he had set for them.  
    “Stop pulling.”  Arcee tried to dig her heels in but the mech only pulled her along.  
  
    They didn’t make it.  
  
    It was obvious after a short joor of almost running up and down the dunes that ‘ound’ave was trying to reach the buildings before the dust cloud got to them.  The dust cloud was not another natural phenomena whipped up by temperature variances and pressure changes but mechs.  
  
    Seekers flew over their helms first.  Arcee instinctively ducked with a shout, trying to bring her weapons online.  Seekers, Vosians, whatever you called them, they meant trouble.  She had some minor altercations with them in the past.  They had once strafed her caravan but had decided to move on for bigger and better prey.    
    They had hit a town further down the route her party had taken and it had been a difficult task to bring even one them down.  
    She hadn’t but Tailgate had and bragged about it for orns after, casually forgetting to mention that the bigger mech had socked him in the faceplates and taken off again.  
  
    One full trine landed, bright jewel blue and red on one, black and purple on the shortest, then deep blue on the last.  ‘ound’ave looped one long arm around her and tucked her into his side as the trio strode forward, their heel thrusters sinking into the sand.  They made disgusted faces at the ground beneath them but continued on until they loomed in the grounders path.  
  
    Directly between them and the plateau.  
  
    Bright red optics raked her, up and down, then the blue and red one began to chitter and click at ‘ound’ave.  He gave no audible answer but the others would pause with helms cocked and listen to something.  Telepathy.  Great.  Arcee may not have been the brightest student in the academy but even she could pick out when she was severely outclassed.  
    Drones, telepathy, seekers,..what next?!  The Matrix suddenly hoping out of the sands singing?!  
    More mechs drove up behind the Seekers and unfolded from their travel modes, standing taller than her still.  Sensor panels unfolded behind them and golden optics gave her a cursory glance.  She must have made a sound, for the dark mech rubbed her arm soothingly.    
  
    Worse, Arcee decided.  Seeker-kin.  The dark mechs’ arm tightened around her and she could feel him shifting his stance, trying to put all the mechs in his view.    
  
    One Seeker-kin stepped forward, black on white with sharp red accents.  His bio lights were startling deep amber gold.  His cold gaze swept right past her, steadying on the dark barbarians’ visor and remaining there.  
    The blue and red Vosian let loose a high pitched screech and she winced.  The black and white grounder hummed at him and those bright red wings relaxed.  Pink rimmed optics widened as both Seeker and Seeker-kin stepped close to the barbarian and began to speak in low tones, the black and white grounder leading most of the conversation.  
  
    Their language was softer and more melodic than the Vosians, actually pleasant to listen to.  But Arcee was distracted by the increasingly heavy servo on her armor.  She winced and shifted, but all it did was bring several mechs attention back to her.  The blue Seeker-kin with the bright yellow accents and the black and purple Seeker eyed her up and down.  Their wings twitched and their armor fluffed out while Arcee followed their displays almost hypnotically.  She leaned back in the barbarians arm to watch them fluff, amused despite herself.  
  
    The lead Seeker suddenly hissed at his purple kin.  The mech in question trilled and stalked closer, wings flicking wildly, optics focused on her.  For one wild instant, Arcee thought perhaps he might be coming in to rescue her but that idea was thoroughly squashed when the blue and yellow Seeker-kin made a sharp sound, taking a step forward as well.  ‘ound’ave growled, his long arm pushing her behind him.  The femme gasped as he tucked her in between his spines, the quadrupedal drone pushing in from behind her.  
    Growls and rumbles filled the air.  The black and white grounder let loose a sigh, optics rolling up while the blue and red Seeker grinned in a disturbing way, clawed servos crossing over his canopy.  
    ‘ound’ave let loose a sharp, pitch high tone that had both young mechs dropping to their knees in the rust.  The lead Seeker screeched in pain, his kin clapping his servos over his audials.  The grey grounder jumped and clutched his helm while his black and white leader lowered his door-wings  He had been the only smart one and must have dialed down his audials.  
    When the tone tapered off into silence, the Seeker-kin leader’s quiet voice filled in the silence with a hard chirp that sent the blue grounder back behind him, door wings lowered submissively.  The purple Seeker was just grabbed by a wing tip and hauled to his peds by his blue brother.  
  
    Arcee trembled against her barbarians’ back, audials ringing still.  She had never heard such a tone before and it hurt.  The dark mechs field enveloped her, trying to sooth and calm her but she wasn’t having any of it.  The bright blue femme shook her helm and buried deeper into his back plates, swallowing against the painful ringing as her field flickered accusingly.  
  
    ‘ound’ave moved and turned, bringing her into his arms and humming lowly.  The note was pitched just enough to break the ringing and soothe it away.   She still shook her helm and glared at him from under the pink spire.  Long blunt digits touched her cheek rims in apology before he turned back to the others.  They watched the two with a barely disguised curiosity.  
    He must have said something because both the leading mechs sent their kin away with reproachful gestures.  In the case of the purple seeker, he returned his leaders gesture with a crude one of his own and then ignored the shrieking.  The visored mech lead her around the group with the ground bound drone still next to her.  He gestured to the plateau and continued moving in that direction, not quiet turning his back on the other mechs.  
  
    The Vosians shot into the air first, circling over their helms and taking off toward the complex.  Their ground bound cousins followed more sedately, with the black and white one leading the trio.  He paused briefly alongside the dark barbarian and flashed his lights before taking off.  
  
    As the dust settled, Arcee let loose a sigh, suddenly glad to be alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been sitting on my computer, mostly done. Sorry for the wait. Next up is an interlude that is done and it introduces two more characters! Yay!


	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because he just couldn't keep himself out of trouble.

    If there was anything he liked about the Rust Sea, it was the light slanting off the moons and glittering across the sand.  He rather liked the romantic notion that the light was dancing down from the lunar bases.  Oh, that could be turned into a song.  He hummed a few notes, sang a couple of words and let it drop into stillness.  The sleek silvery white mech leaned a little further out of the window to catch those lost notes and vented happily.    
    There was something endlessly romantic about being this far away from civilization, he thought, cupping his chin in his palm as a little grin crossed his face.  Sure, he loved the sea of adoring fans, the music, the light, the pure excitement of the performance but it was nice to get away from it all and for everything to just be quiet, still.  The little silver mech pushed away from the window with a final sigh, spinning on one wheel, letting the sheer veil he wore to protect his finish flutter about.  
    Idly, he tapped out a rhythm with the toe of his ped, a hum under his breath as he danced about the small room he’d been given.  His digits slid across the few instruments he kept in the room with him, plucking the strings of the electro-sitar.    
      
    The room itself was perfectly square with two high arching windows that overlooked the Rust Sea itself.  The doorway to the room was little more than another archway with a swath of fabric to serve as the actual door.  A little delicate carved screen was placed in front of the door for added privacy.  It all helped with air flow to keep the complex cool.  
  
    The little silvery mech hummed as he left the room, skipping past other rooms, some empty and some filled with mecha.  There was a sudden muffled boom and the entire placed rattled a bit, just enough to knock the mech off his peds for a split second.  He gave a little yelp but with all the grace of a dancer, he regained his footing with nothing more than a skip.  
    “That was a good one, Jackie!”  He called as he came around the corner and stuck his head in yet another open doorway.  The only thing that made this one different was the lines of soot that etched their way out along the walls and the thick cloud of black smoke that billowed out the doorway.  
  
    “I didn’t expect that!”  A voice called back.  The little mech coughed and jerked back as another mech crawled out of the smoke, the strange fin like projections on the side of his helm sparkling madly.  With a chuckle, the little mech shrugged off the veil and helped the other to his feet.     
    “That’s what you always say.”  The little mech brushed a servo across the taller ones armor, watching the ash that drifted down with his visor glittering in amusement.  
    “And I’m always right!”  Jackie chuckled, waving the other aside and slapping at his own armor to beat away the soot.  
    “What brings you out today, Jazz?”  He said merrily.  
    “Other than da ground shaking booms, a bit of ah walk to stretch mah struts.”  He grinned, tipping his helm to the side.  “But since we’re on tha’ subject, how much longer do you think it’ll take ya ta finish on our transport?”  
    “Transport?”  Jackie paused in his brushing, blinking at Jazz owlishly.  Jazz pursed his lip plates together and planted a servo on his hip.  
    “Oh, that transport!”  His systems hiccuped a bit and he scratched the back of his helm nervously, suddenly looking everywhere but at the little silver mech.  
    “Ya forgot, didn’t ya?”    
    “Um, I didn’t forget, not really.  Just waiting on a spare part from Yuss.  I had to send out for it on the last supply run and, um, it should be here in a few orns…maybe.  Hopefully.”    
    “Wheeljack.”  Jazz drawled lowly, drawing the word out and making the soot stained mech twitch madly.    
      
  
    “Well, everything is mostly ready for you to go, just some minor adjustments need to be made and some major parts need to be fitted into some empty spots in the engine and…”  Wheeljack rambled on for several long moments often coming back to the same things over and over.  Jazz let him stumble over his own words for several kliks, visor glittering dangerously.  
    “Then we can get back on tha road?”  The smile that crossed Jazz’s face was not comforting and Wheeljack made a pathetic beeping sound.    
    “Well…”  He trailed off at the bright flash in Jazz’s visor.  
    “I just need to machine some parts that…um…”  Bright cheerful blue optics cut to the still burning table.  
    “No…ya didn’t.”  Jazz hissed, fists balling into the veil.  “Tell me ya didn’t play around wit’ our transport parts?!”    
    “Ah, just a little!  Kinda like…”   
    “JACK!”  The much smaller mech snarled and advanced on the soot covered engineer.  Wheeljack squealed and back petaled so fast, he crawled across his work table, knocking the charred remains of whatever it was off on to the floor where they were crushed under-ped by a very irate Jazz.    
      
    “Jack, do yaself a favor an’ make our transport a top priority!  An’ stop taking our stuff ta play wit!”  
    “But, but…you got some great stuff!”  
    “WHEELJACK!!!”    
      
    Before silver claws could pierce the engineers’ throat cables, a rather preppy chime split the air and both mechs paused, helms cocking to listen.  It repeated it’s merry jingle then as silence descended Jazz fixed the other mech with a questioning glare.  Wheeljack’s heavy shoulders lifted and dropped in a helpless shrug then he shuffled toward the door, brushing the soot from his armor.  
    Left alone, Jazz huffed irritably, kicking a hunk of charred slag into the dark corners of the room as he made his way to the high arched window.  He opened it with a hacking of his vents, fanning the heavy smoke out into the air even as he leaned out.    
  
    There was a rusty dust cloud on the horizon, growing in size as it got closer.  In the air above it, Jazz counted nine black specks that dipped and wove around each other.  The silvery white mech leaned his chin on his fist and arched his back to keep his helm out of the smoke.  
  
    Vosians?  This far out into the Rust Sea?  Yep, it was Vosians.  Jazz could make out the colorful stripes on their wings as they shot forward and suddenly flew over the little way station.  
    If Vosians were overhead, that meant Praxians were pacing them on the ground below.  Excitement rose in Jazz’s spark as he craned his helm out the window, watching the sleek dark specks race closer.  The darkness brightened to blues and reds, whites, silvers, black, all manner of colors.  Curiously all earth toned, Jazz hummed, probably better to blend in with their natural habitat.  Who knew why barbarians did anything, he mused, ducking back inside as curiosity got the better of him.  He skipped out the still smoking workroom and was down the hallway in a flash of chrome, taking the spiral stairs two at a time.  
    Down one interior hallway to another stair case, sliding down the bannister of another stairs after yet another hallway, endless hallway and stair cases carved out from the plateau.  
    Finally, he hit the bottom, both peds clunking down like a child would in a rain puddle.  
  
    Jazz kept to the shadows, edging around corners until he could see Wheeljack standing there with his servos planted firmly on his hip plates, his back to him.  Jazz debated waiting with him when a viscously bright blue and red Vosian dropped from the sky and unfolded right before Jazz’s optics, hitting the ground with a shaking boom and planting his own peds in a broad stance.  A blue Vosian landed far more delicately beside him then a black and purple one just popped into existence.  The others circled above and Jazz could hear their strong engines roaring over his helm.     
     He ducked behind a empty container just as a trio of grounders melted out of the dust.  The black and white one unfolded first and easily stepped up beside the Vosian and together they stared the slightly shorter Wheeljack down.  To his credit, the engineer didn’t back down and flashed his lights cheerfully at them  
    The conversation was too low to hear and Jazz muttered to himself, drawing his veil tight as he snuck around the far side of the container.   
  
    When he peered around it’s edge, his visor met the amber gaze of the black and white mech.  Jazz covered up his yelp with one servo then turned his grimace of embarrassment in to a cheeky grin when those gold optics brightened.  He gave a wave and blew the mech a kiss before dashing back up the steps.  
  
    He felt those optics on his back the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jazz and Prowl demanded an entrance. I obliged. This entire interlude will be re-written in it's own story.


	8. Chapter Six: Somewhere between here and there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gig is up, as it were, and Arcee is feeling a little bit put out. Now there is exploding engineers and stranded troubadours and she just wants to go home.

    The plateau grew larger in front of them until Arcee sighed in quiet relief as they passed into it’s shadow.  ‘ound’ave seemed to know where he was going, he followed some sort of hidden path of not-quite flat plates into the slopping metal until the pair came out into a little hollow.  It had been cleared out and a floor was cut into the denser metal, making it easier to stand there safely.  All around where crates and packing materials, long since empty.  They must have been left down here because there was no space, Arcee mused.    
    What is this place?  She tipped her helm back, staring around a the cavern curiously.  It was perfectly square in the far end, possibly military and built on the lines of a holding bay perhaps.  The other end was more rough, simply cut out to be serviceable.    
  
    Civilian.  Arcee thought.  Someone who didn’t know what they were doing or didn’t care.    
  
    The Vosians and Praxians were standing in a loose circle at the far end of the hollow, their backs to the pair.  The first to turn were the blue Seeker and the black and white Praxian.  They only nodded to the pair and turned their attention back on the very strange mech in front of them.  The dark mech tightened his arm around her and stopped well away from the others.  
    The strangest Protihexian Arcee had ever seen stood before them, peds spread and fists planted on boxy hip-plates.  He was mostly white and grey with the remains of bright green and deep red that was all but obscured with soot and only Primus knew what else.  Arcee got a whiff of him and staggered back gagging.  Whatever it was stank and she couldn’t imagine how the others couldn’t smell it.  Two elongated fins sloped back from his cheek plates and were a rainbow of blinking colors while a protruding knob of hard metal stuck out from his helm.  His optics twinkled in some sort of mirth mixed with tension and a sprinkling of crazy.  The rest of his face was covered by a soot stained blast mask.  The mech was framed by a pair of sharp flares that jutted out from his shoulders, reminiscent of the Praxian's door-wings.  All and all, Arcee couldn’t remember a more piece-meal mech in all her existence.  
    He was a mishmash of Kaon, Praxian, and Yussian influence and she didn’t know if she could trust him at all.    
  
    The femme pressed back into her captor, optics watching as her frame stilled.  Her audials tuned into the conversation going on.  Whatever else, the strange mech knew their language and was chatting away at the winged mechs.  They seemed to disagree about something as suddenly, wings shot straight up into the air and there was an all around hissing sound.  The mech didn’t budge and narrowed his optics at them.  The blue and red Seeker screeched, claws sliding out in warning and it only earned him a huff from the grounder.  He chattered something else at them and turned, waving a hand toward the entrance with a off hand noise.  
    ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the aft on the way out’.  The black and white Praxian murmured something low and the other grounder stopped, attention focused on him.  The seekers tried to calm down their leader while everyone else listened to whatever the Praxian was saying.    
    Silence lapsed as the masked mech considered the Praxians’ words, optics darting from one frame to another.  Finally, he nodded and waved his hand, a chipper sounding noise bursting from his vocalizer as he turned around again to take the lead up the stairs.    
    The Praxian mech mech paused and looked away, door-wings twitching.  The Seekers followed the other up the stairs and the dark mech, tugging Arcee along, passed him before those door-wings twitched again and the Praxian followed the pair up the stairs.  
  
    The Protihexian chattered away the entire time, servos flicking this way and that.  He suddenly paused.  
    “The baths are down that corridor there, four doors down on the right.”  He stated, startling Arcee.  “Right across the hall and one door down toward the end is a storage closet for supplies.”  
    “The med bay is up here on the left.”  His helm fins twinkled merrily.  “I’ve turned the mess hall into a kind of living room and make shift craft room so I won’t be too upset if you move something out of your way.”  He switched before Arcee could respond and chittered away for a moment.  
    “Dorms are down here.”    
  
    A giggle interrupted the entire assembly.  Helms whipped around to see two figures crouched in a doorway, one bright silvery white and the other a delicate soft blue.  With a squeal, the duo ducked back into the room and a mesh cloth dropped down.  
    “I’ve got a troubadour group stuck here when the last dust storm clogged the vents on their transport.  Overheated and melted them.  Still waiting on parts.”  The mech huffed.  
    “Names’ Wheeljack.”  He said, moving down the hall, clearly speaking to Arcee.  Her optics narrowed but before she could voice her thoughts, he cut her off with a shake of his head.    
    “I ain’t gonna call ‘em for ya.  I can’t afford to be on a tribes’ bad side.”    
      
    Arcee was going to speak, really she was, but as a single grating note sliced through the air, silencing both city mechs.  Wheeljack winced, lighted fins flickering a sickly green, and the blue femme shook her helm to clear the static.  The Protihexian mumbled something and slapped the side of his helm a few times and sent a reproachful look toward the dark mech.  
    “Right, no names.  Got it.”  He muttered.  
  
    Arcee was much too distracted to think ‘How did he know Wheeljack was gonna ask her name?’  No, actually, the thought was there, it just didn’t stick around long enough to make an impression on her processor.  Later, though, it would get ‘ound’ave in a lot of trouble.  
  
    Wheeljack turned back to the seekers and jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward an arched doorway with a blue curtain.  When the seekers went through, Arcee could see a wide window that lead to a open porch on the far side before the curtain swished closed.  
    Wheeljack continued down the hall and nodded his finned helm to a curtained doorway opposite the seekers room and the Praxians stepped through.  The black and white paused briefly and murmured something to Wheeljack before moving out of sight.  
    “And here ya are, one nice and cozy room for travel weary tribesmechs”  He stepped away with a wave.    
    “I’ll heat up the baths for y’all.”  
  
    ‘ound’ave pushed her into the room before she could answer the other grounder.  The curtain dropped to cover the doorway and Arcee turned on the silent mech with a huff.  He ignored her angry muttering, dropping his armload on to the table beside the door.  The pair stared as it wobbled, only belatedly noticing that one leg was considerably shorter than the others.  The femme set her own load very carefully down on a short padded stool after she eyed it’s neon blue stain dubiously and then she folded down the edge of the shawl she wore watching as the dark mech released his quadruped drone and began to dig in his subspace, pulling out some boxes and repacking others.  
    “What are you doing?”  She muttered, not expecting an answer.  
    He knelt and took on that curious kneeling pose she had seen him use before as he threw some of his pillows and blankets on the bare berth in the corner and stacked two of his boxes on top of her box in the furthest corner from the door.  
    Arcee marched over to him and kicked him softly in the shin, thrusting her tied servos in that blank faceplate when he turned to her.  
    His engine rumbled for a long moment while his bio lights pulsed.  He hooked one dark digit over the knot and pulled it and her down beside him.  Arcee’s spark pounded when he wrapped his long arms around and held her tight for a long moment, deft digits finding the knot after a long moment and untying it.  
  
    Arcee didn’t have long to celebrate before he stood up, taking her with him.  Swiftly, he pulled her into the hall and down the long corridor.  
    “Where are we going?”  She grumbled, stumbling once, awfully tired of being tugged this way and that.  
    “The baths, probably.  Y’all stink!”  A cheerful voice chirped right behind them.  Arcee had run out of her quota for surprise and just turned to stare at the lithe silver white mech lounging in that same doorway as before.  A glass visor covered his optics and he cocked his horned helm at the pair of them.  
    “I certainly hope so.”  She murmured, following the pull of the darker mech.  The other followed, hands folded at his back and humming under his vocalizer.  
    The blue femme smiled, sensing a fleeting pulse of amusement and exasperation from ‘ound’ave’s field.    
    Not very worried, is he?  ‘ound’ave pulled her into the baths with gentle servos and the femme took a long moment to stare, rather stupidly.  
  
    The baths were a circular room with a single large depression in it’s center.  Pipes and spigots, haphazardly tied together with plastic zip-ties, hung from the ceiling and two of them poured hot solvent into the depression.  The others continually dripped various colored solvent in with varying scents.    
    Arcee made a mental note to stay far away from the pipe that smelled like sulfur and was covered in sporadic burn marks.  Thankfully that one was shut off.  
  
    The dark mech knelt and dipped a servo into the solvent, testing the temperature before he jumped in.  The groan the mech made was audible and Arcee held her chuckle in.  ‘ound’ave submerged fully by the time Arcee entered the pool from the steps.  She sank in with a sigh, all the way up to her chin guard.  The silvery white mech who had followed them leapt in with a hollar, coming up jetting solvent out of his vents.  
    Heavy servos landed gently on her armor and Arcee jumped.  ‘ound’ave hummed sub-vocally and began to scrub her down.  
    “So, what’s a bot gotta do tah get some des?”  The rooms other occupant was leaning against the tubs far side, arms draped over the lip, helm laid back.    
    “Talk to this one.  He won’t let me say my designation where he can hear it.”  She said ruefully, grabbing her own cloth and scrubbing at her servos.  
    “Is a cultural thing, I think.”  The other lifted his helm and rubbed an horn.  “Des is Jazz, by the way.  Singer, dancer, player extraordinaire!”  Solvent droplets flew through the air as he flung his servos up in an exaggerated flare.  Arcee giggled while the dark mech adjusted her arm strut, digits digging in a removing a clot of dried energon and rust.  
    “So, where ya from?”  
     “Iacon.  Was part of the Iaconi Guard.”  
    “Ah, mech, been an age an’ half since I was last there!  Should probably swing by, see if the city needs ta been shaken up a bit.”  He scratched the point of his chin, visor flickering wildly for a kilk.  He settled back against the edge of the tub with a smirk and opened his lip-plates…  
  
    The curtain whisked aside and the younger grey Praxian barged in, stopping short at the sight of them with a soft chirr.  The black and white Praxian almost ran into him from behind and trilled lowly at him but stopped.  His optics flared once and then he was nudging the other into the room, nodding to ‘ound’ave.    
    His severe countenance was ruined when he pushed the grey Praxian into the bath with only a flick of a wing and set down his bundle of cleaning supplies, ignoring the younger as he came up with a gargle and briefly ducking his helm at the surprised cries of the others.    
    The speed at which the younger one spoke floored Arcee and brought a quiet amused huff from ‘ound’ave.  Jazz was pole-axed, visor flaring brightly and mouth hanging open.  
  
    The older Praxian entered the pool with deliberate grace and then proceeded to grab the younger one by the back of the neck and attempt to drown him.  Jazz yelped and launched himself through the solvent, claws sliding out to dig into the exposed proto-flesh of the black and white’s arm strut when he let the grey one up and began raking his armor with claws and cloth, sudsing up every so often to pick rust out of joints.  Jazz sputtered to a halt, drawing his claws back when the Praxian mech spared him a quick glance.    
    ‘ound’ave continued his own single minded attention to her armor with a fastidiousness that she had never expected from anyone who lived outside of civilization.  He was looming over her, helm cocked to examine her still healing, still tender winglet when the older Praxian released the younger.  
    He splashed around, drawing further away, and clung to the side of the pool, giving the taller a vicious glare while spitting up bubbles.  
  
    Arcee chuckled, unconsciously arching her spinal strut into the dark mechs’ skilled servos.    
  
    The older Praxian had turned and offered the cleaning cloth to Jazz, arching his wings slightly.  The silvery mech’s visor did a sort of rapid fire shift of color then he took the cloth with an extravagant bow.  
    “Ain’t one tah say no ta gettin’ my servos all ova that.”  
  
    The Praxian however, had something else in mind.  He had already sudsed up a new cleaning cloth.  In the pause, he spun his digit in a slow circle with an arched brow-plate.  
  
    “I think he wants to scrub your back!”  She cupped her servos over her lip-plates in a mock whisper, mischief and unholy glee dancing in her optics.  
  
    “Ah got that.”  Jazz didn’t exactly grumble, but it was clear he wasn’t too pleased.  
  
    Still, he gamely turned around and applied his cloth to his arms, whistling a little tune.  He only slightly jumped when the taller mech gently touched his shoulder and started scrubbing him down.  Arcee watched, completely fascinated, as the grey Praxian chirped and slide his own long claws along his elders’ back, using yet another cleansing cloth with exquisite care on the board door wings.  
    She was entirely too focused to realize that not only had ‘ound’ave finished with her and his own armor, but he was now gently tugging her away.  
  
    The drying process was no less quick and efficient and it still allowed her to watch.  The black and white Praxian had somehow gotten Jazz to allow him to scrub his leg struts and now the silverly white mech was sitting on the edge of the tub, blissfully uncomplicated while he sung a rather dirty little ditty Arcees’ carrier would have washed her mouth out with soap over.  He was running the cloth over his opposite knee, content to let the Praxian have full reign of the other.  
    That one long leg was raised and his ped was propped up against Prowl’s chest plates.  Though throughly amused, the black and white Praxian was completely focused on running the ends of his claws along the edges of Jazz’s armor, only pulling back when he flinched.  Each expression was neatly catalogued each reaction before he started again.  
  
    Jazz wasn’t that dusty.  Not enough for that single minded attentiveness.  
  
    The last occupant of the room had sunk into the solvent, gigantic blue optics watching everything the older Praxian did.  His wings flicked or fluttered, sending either ripples or frothing the solvent into bubbles whenever his kin trilled at the reaction he got from Jazz.  
  
    The dark mech dropped a towel over her helm, obscuring her view, and made a chuffing sound that could have been laughter as she fought her way out of it.  He buffed and dried her off first, giving his own armor a quick pat dry.  
  
    By the time they were back in their room, Arcee was reminded just how hungry she was when her tanks gave a sharp ping.  ‘ound’ave knelt to rummage around in one of his boxes, gesturing to the berth.  Once she was comfortably settled and just about to nod off, despite her aching tanks, he joined her, holding out the proto-flesh of his last kill.  
    Her resistance was marginal at best.  She grumbled but ate until it was all gone.  The blue femme grumbled again when he nudged her to stand and set about polishing her armor.  It was not the same she could have gotten in any city, town, or hamlet but it was nice and smooth.  It smelled distantly of the desert wire rose he had tucked into her spire and it left a cool sensation as it dried.    
    Only once the last of the fog had been buffed away to a glossy shine had he let her collapse into the berth.  ‘ound’ave plugged her in and as she dropped off, her last vision was of him sitting on the edge of the berth, spreading the polish on his own armor, humming under his vocalizer  
  
    Should have at least offered to polish his back plates.  She dropped off with a hum.  
  
  
  
    ‘ound’ave did not let her recharge for very long.  She awoke to gentle warm servos stroking her armor and before she could regain full consciousness, marveled at how very large he was.  He unplugged her gently from the HAB unit and as he was standing, guided her to stand.  Her sleepy processor, however, had other things it wanted to get out in the open.  
    “You can understand me, can’t you?”  She stifled her yawn, opting instead to duck her helm and glare at him from under her pink spire.  
    “Don’t think I didn’t see that but there, in the hall when we got here.”  She stomped her way to stand in front of him, hoping to level him with a razor sharp glare.    
    He stood his ground, dark servos loose at his side.  He did, however cock his helm at her and his visor suddenly flashed.  A bright question mark crossed his screen like visor then went dark.  
    “Oh, no, we are gonna talk about this!  You can understand me!  I don’t know how or why only now unless you’ve known the whole time and deliberately kept quiet.”  
    He actually turned his back on her and knelt to give his quadruped drone a brief pat on the helm.    
  
    She felt like kicking him.  
  
    The dark mech stood and gestured to the doorway, moving away as though he expected her to follow.    
    “‘ound’ave!”  She snapped, moving to cut him off.  
    “Yes or no, can you understand me?”  Nothing.  “Nod your helm or something, this is getting really boring talking to someone who I damn well know can understand me.”  
  
    She would have more reaction talking to a rock.  
  
    He did, however, bend briefly and touch the crest of his helm to her spire.  The tug on her arm strut had her raising her hand and he pulled it to clasp over that warm, dimly spot on his chest plates, normally hidden by the flying drone.  
    “I really want to hate you and then you go and do something like that.”  She muttered as he pulled away, blue-pink optics narrowing as she studied the now blank visor.  “I’m not falling for you.  Nope.”    
    An amused rumble tickled the servo still pressed against his chest plate and his vents breathed warm air over her plating as he stood to his full height.  He tugged her from the room.  
  
    A shimmer of twilight purple had her focusing on Jazz as he and another, a white plated bot with a splash of aqua and a pinstripe of neon green stepped out of their room.      
    “Hey!”  Jazz said brightly as he spotted them, adjusting the sheer purple stole over his shoulders.    
    “Hey, where you off to?”  She asked.  ‘ound’ave squeezed her servo.  
    “Gonna go find ‘Jack.”  He said with a chuckle.  “He doesn’t always remember to eat an’ ah wanna stretch my leg servos.      
    “Sounds thrilling.”  She muttered.  Jazz cocked his helm at her and her silent shadow.  
    “Gonna go snag the rec room again an’ probably do a bit of practicing too.  All this sittin’ around is cramping mah digits.”  He waggled them in the air, making his friend chuff and take a swipe at his helm.  
    “Watch da finish!”  He yelped, ducking and skipping away.  “I don’t wanna mess up all that pretty Praxian’s hard work!”  
      
    As if on cue, a grey helm crowned with a cherry red chevron poked out of a curtain further down, big blue eyes lighting on the group as they stood there.  He chirped and skipped over to them.   The stream of constant chatter quieted the three smaller mechs and he turned his attention to the dark tribesmech.  
    Who remained silent.  
    The grey Praxians’ face fell but he bounced back, his wings dipping and wiggling with his changing emotions…or the tone of his vocalizer.  Arcee couldn’t tell.  The whole group started down the hall, Jazz and his friend skipping ahead.  No one but ‘ound’ave saw the black and white Praxian join the group, servos clasped loosely behind his back, wings held upright.    
  
    They found Wheeljack at the bottom of a crate in a very small hanger carved out of the side of the plateau on the north face.  His aft was in the air and a string of curses were mumbled out from the dark interior of the crate.  Jazz leaned over the edge, bracing his weight on the lid of the crate, visor sparkling with a sort of unholy glee that made Arcee shuffle her peds.  
    “Hiya Jack!”  Jazz yelled as loud as he could.  
      
    Wheeljack yelped and flailed.  His ped slipped and with his already precarious position compromised, he went helm first into the box.  The a smugly satisfied grin, Jazz arched his back and looked down.  
    “Nice tah see ya working so hard on our transport dere.”  He teased though his visor went a bit dark.  
    “Jazz.”  The engineer greeted him amicably, fins flashing a slight pink color.  He climbed out of the crate, taking Jazz’s proffered servo and rubbing the back of his helm with the other.  More dirt scuffed his already sooty frame.  
    A dark visor tilted to watch the older Praxian as Jazz grabbed a rag from a box of parts at Wheeljacks’ peds and attempted to rub some of the grease off the servo he held.  Prowl’s dark gold optics watched everything, all with an expressionless faceplate.  He was still relaxed and loose though and the darker tribes-mech felt a little stirring of trepidation in his spark.    
    The silvery white mech finally thrust a cube of energon into the engineer’s mostly clean servo with a sharp ‘Drink this.’  Wheeljack did, but he turned away first to pick up his box of parts.  When he turned back, his blast mask was clicking back into place and the cube was empty.    
    “I think I found a catalytic converter in here!  I might be able to hook it up to a reg-ton converter and double back it to a hunson, thereby bypassing a cobalt block to…”  
    “Does this help fix our transport?”  The white and aqua mech spoke up, cutting off the engineer who gave him a shrug in reply.  
    “In a way, yeah.  You’ll burn through a lot less fuel, if the converter holds and doesn’t ignite in a firey ball of death.”  He paused.  “Probably shouldn’t have said that.”  
    “You were just gonna pop it in anyway, weren’t you?”  He asked.  
    “Well, yeah…”  Wheeljack clapped his servos together, his optics over his blast mask a little too bright.  “But it would have been awesome!”  
    “If ah rearrange yah processor and ya aft, would that be awesome?”  Jazz crossed his arm struts over his chest-plates, crinkling the dilapanious lavender steel silk shawl.  
    “You can do that?”  Wheeljack asked curiously.      
    “Let’s find out!”  Jazz hissed, claws sliding out as he took a menacing step forward.    
  
    A very brief scuffle broke out with the grey Praxian hauling the engineer back and the white mech hanging on to Jazz as if his life depended on it.  Arcee latched on a surprisingly strong arm strut, attempting to hold the furious silvery mech.  That ‘ound’ave had actually let her was something to keep in mind.  
    She saw the fine tremor of his dark armored shoulders and realized that he too was almost laughing.  Jazz had no intention of actually hurting the mech but she could tell his patience was gone.  Wheeljack must have known as well and only kept out of servos reach while keeping up a stream of running commentary and half afted apologies.  This was obviously something that had happened before and Arcee did let loose a peal of laughter at the absurdity of it all.  Jazz managed to wiggled out of her loose grasp, bunching up as though to pounce on the rambling engineer.  It was the Praxian mech, however, who stopped the ‘fight’.  He had tolerated enough it seemed and snapped out a long arm, hooking it around Jazz’s waist, picking him off the ground and setting him down between the two tribesmech’s.  
    Visor rapidly flickering as he took in his change in location, Jazz stumbled a bit as he was set down.  
    “The Pit, mech, yah didn’t need to do that.  I wasn’t gonna hurt ‘em…”  
    “Phew!”  Wheeljack slumped against the younger mech’s shoulder.  
    “…much.”  He mumbled and quieted quickly when gold optics landed on him again.  
  
    The black and white mech said something, his vocalizer strong but quiet in the now still room and the younger Praxian dragged Wheeljack to his side.  The grey mech chirped and lead the way out of the hanger, his kin following with a hand on Jazz’s back plates.  ‘ound’ave drew Arcee against him and followed only after the white mech had left.  
  
    They gathered in the rec room, the troubadours and Wheeljack already setting stuff aside and rearranging furniture to fit the larger group.  The smaller, lither city mechs unpackaged their instruments with great care and soon set up a jaunty tune, often stopping and starting over in a different key.  The song they started up was a simple tune that she had often heard in the smaller hamlets around Iacon.    
    It was quick and rolicking though and the troubadors somehow handed off each instrument without breaking the tempo.    
    Arcee leant back against ‘ound’ave and watched, ped tapping to the beat.  There was a pretty pale pink and creme mech in the corner with a holo-board and the femme in pale blue sat at his peds with a crys-harp.  A mint colored mech held a copper flute to his lip plates while the  white and aqua mech and Jazz played a pair of photo sitars, one large and one small.  A lavender colored femme with dark optics sat in front of a pair of metal drums, using just her digit tips to tap out deep ringing thrums of music.  
    The tune shifted to something lighter, Jazz and the mint colored mech set aside their instruments and stood to dance.  
  
    Jazz hadn’t been kidding when he called his talent extraordinary.  He danced and spun, letting the hem of the shawl he wore weave through the air in time with his steps.  His visor winked at her and then he began to clap his hands.  The others in the audience pick up the cue and clapped in time with him, chuckling.  
    The dark blue femme hummed, ducking her helm shyly when Jazz stopped in front of her and held out his servo but she took it with a giggle.  Throughly surprised at herself to be giggling like a youngling, she let him lead her off into the simple steps of a country jig.  He spun her away into the mint mechs arms and pulled the younger Praxian up next.  The mint mech spun her off when the tempo changed and she was once again at her seat and back into ‘ound’ave’s arms.    
    At some point during the dance, the elusive Vosians and the final Praxian had slunk in, optics glittering at the strange assembly in the rec room.  The blue Praxian moved toward his tribemates, keeping well away from Arcee at the darker mechs’ rumble of displeasure.  
    The dancers had switched partners again, with the younger Praxian now watching avidly as the mint mech finished with Wheeljack and sent him off in a flourish to stand next to the grey Praxian just in time to clasp servos with the black and purple Vosian.  The leer he received only got a little giggle and then he was traded off for the blue and yellow Praxian.    
     Down the line, the dancers went until everyone had a spin with the musicians.  The white and black Praxian was last and he refused to let go of Jazz’s servos until the end when the troubadours ended to thunderous applause.  
    “Beautiful!”  Arcee laughed when Jazz threw her a saucy kiss.  “I don’t think I’ve ever danced that one before.”  
    “Is more local to the outskirts o’ Kaon, ya dig?”  Jazz accepted his sitar back and strummed it.  “Been a moons’ age since we last passed by dere, what was it’s name again, Sweet?”  
    “Yuss.”  The lavender femme said softly, taking a sip of the energon Wheeljack was now handing around.  
    “It’s a bit like the dances in Iacon but alot more fun.”  Arcee said.  
    “Hmm, yeah, dere a bit more structured, not so much switchin’ partners aroun’.”  Jazz nodded, playing a few notes.  
      
    The Vosians and their kin were in a corner, speaking quietly and from the tilt of ‘ound’aves’ helm, she knew he was listening.  Arcee considered elbowing him and telling him it was rude to listen in but he slid a rough hand over her elbow joint and loosely wrapped his fingers around.    
    “Stop doing that.”  She grumbled,  “It’s creepy when you read my processor.”  
    “Stop doing that.”  The blue femme jumped when her own voice was repeated in her audial, just quiet enough for only her to hear.  
    “Ok, now that’s super creepy.”  She pulled away with a grimace, narrowing her optics at him.  “Either talk normal or go back to being silent.”  
    : _I was under the impression you wanted me to say something._ :  A heavy mech’s voice in her processor was not what she had been expecting.  Seething in fury, she raised her optics to meet his blank visor.  
    “Why you dec..”  
    “Energon?”  Wheeljacks’ bright voice cut through her impressive rant before she could get it going and she stared into it’s bright swirling blueness before grabbing it out of his servos.  A bemused ‘ound’ave nodded to the startled Wheeljack who only stepped away with something that sounded suspiciously like ‘lover spat’.  
    “I’m done talking to you.”  She hissed lowly, ignoring his thoughtful hum behind taking a sip of energon.  
    : _You wanted me to say something._ :  
    “Earlier, yes!  When I asked you.”  She hissed then shook her helm.  “No, I’m done talking to you, Con.”  
    : _But you have such a lovely voice.  It pleases me to hear it._ :  
    “You could have told me you knew my language.”  
    : _It’s nice to be surprised by something though._ :  
    “No, it isn’t!”  She set her cube down with a thud, drawing the black and white Praxians’ attention.  The red and blue Seekers had left and their black kin was now attempting to flirt with the mint green mech.  The blue Praxian was sitting on the floor with the grey Praxian, whispering in his audial, both bright blue optics on Wheeljack as he joked with Jazz.  
    “I don’t know what your deal is, but this little game is over.  Why did you…hey, I’m talking to you!”  
  
    ‘ound’ave had pulled her up and was now leading her toward the doorway, out into the hall and to their room.  It all happened so fast that Arcee was dismayed to find that her gathering rant was doused when he sat her down and leaned over her.  
    : _Recharge now, talk later.  You are exhausted and will be even more upset if this discussion continues.  Your needs must be met._ :  
    “What are you…”  
    : _Rest._ :  
    “No, you flippin’ tin can!  We are gonna talk!  I am leaving in the light cycle.    
    : _Recharge._ :  
    “First of all, do not order me around.  I fragging well don’t appreciate it.”  She jabbed a digit in his visor, only slightly noticing how very small it was in comparison to him.  “Second, I am staying here, with my property,”  She shook her servo to emphasis her point, “ and catching the next ride back to civilization.”  
    : _Desert Law._ :  Arcee balked at the signifiers, the meaning escaping her.  
    “There is no law but the primes’ law.”  The femme said softly, optics watching him warily.  
  
    A touch of uncertainty eased its cold way up her spinal strut as the mech rose over her.  His looming presence should have activated her defense protocols but her systems only tagged him as ‘potential’.    
    ‘Potential’ what!?  
  
    : _What is prime?_ :  
  
    The question startled her, enough for her to drop active threads in her processor and she actually stalled.  
    “You know, Prime?  Our Voice to Primus?  The Living Primus?  Prime.”  
    : _Prime and prime signifiers do not correlate.  What is Prime?_ :  He actually cocked his helm at that, one rough servo coming up to trace her cheek rims.  
    “Prime is our leader, he is chosen by Primes through the Matrix,”  She stalled then plowed on.  “He calls sparks up from the Well and will lead us to peace.”  
    : _Sparks begin here,_ :  He pressed one servo over her chest plate, above her spark and pressed down hard enough that Arcee’s spark jumped, making her gasp.  : _And here._ :  He thumped his own chest plates hard.  : _Mates create the kindle and spark it to life.  Our gift from Unicron, it is said, so that each may chose their path._ :  There was a sort pause.  : _And prime_?”  
     “It’s…well,”  Arcee stumbled over herself confused at the turn of conversation, her processor trying to identify what ‘sparking’ had to do with anything.  “We haven’t had a Prime in deca-vorns so it’s just prime.  The Matrix is lost.”  
    : _Then there is no prime law.  Only Desert Law._ :  He said it with such conviction that she whipped her helm around to glare at him, pursing her lip plates.  
    “I want to go home.”  She spat.  “I have a mission and a purpose…”  
    : _You are home._ :  He picked up her servo and laid it on that warm spot on his chest plate.  
    “Iacon is my home.”  
    : _Enough.  Recharge._ :  
    :No ‘ound’ave…”  
    : _It is pronounced Soundwave.  Recharge._ :  
  
    There was a sharp sensation, like a pinch, and then darkness claimed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> City mechs use the Well because sparking up a partner fell out of fashion. Arcee's character is slowly building up and then Jazz and Prowl stole the show. Go figure.


	9. Nothing is easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave has a few lessons to learn.

    Pain.  
  
    Soundwave startled awake.  It erupted, hot and fast, over his sensor net and it focused on his faceplates.  His visor shattered, disrupted his visual feed.    
    Next came the sound.  An low hissing, like an intake dragging through clenched denta, and a ugly little growl of a smaller engine.  Then static from audials and visual.  
    Finally came movement.  He shot up, cables releasing and weapons systems coming online.  His drones dropped from their moorings in his armor.  He attacked without thinking, wondering why his sensors didn’t pick up a hostile field.  Blind, he lashed out at the movement he could just barely feel on overclocked sensors.  Another hit, again a fist to the fractured visor, had him choking back a roar.  His cables struck, flinging his opponent away.  
      
    Engine sputtering in shock, pain, and wariness; Soundwave attempted to focus light blinded optics as he stood shakily.  
    The blue femme sat crumbled, across the room, and clutched her abdominal plates.  Her intakes wheezed but she watched him, angry field flicking at his own.  
  
    Gingerly Soundwave knelt, one servo reaching up to brush against the broken edges of his visor, while the other shaded his optics from the thin bit of light that crept in under the curtain.  Silence settled between the two.  The quadraped drone moved toward the entry way to both block the light and prevent anyone from coming in, or leaving.  
    The beast master grimaced.  A sharp edge cut into his servo and he hissed as he worked it free.  Low light dark optics watched the femme for any sudden moves.  
  
    He should have anticipated this, he realized.  They had not ended their conversation last night on good terms and in a way, he did actually deserve this.  He could not blame her…even if she had a really good punch.  Still, his pride was hurt.    
        She made to get up, leg struts wavering below her and he made no move to help her.  Cables and struts tensed but he didn’t move.  
    “Fragger.  You deserved that.”  She hissed.  “Damn Con.”  A few more curses fell out of her mouth.  
    His engine rumbled in response but he watched her silently.  She paced and cursed, even moved toward the doorway a few times but each time she turned back with a glare at his drone.  
    “I’m leaving.”  She announced.  “Give me my possessions.  Now.”  She planted her peds, optics flaring bright.  
  
    Silence.  
  
    The femme hissed.  “Don’t play dumb with me.”  She stabbed a digit toward his faceplates.  He was smart enough to lean away, raising up just enough to add some height to himself before her snort forced him back down.  She wasn’t going to be intimidated right now.  And while his pride wouldn’t let him back down too much, he still had to make the effort.    
    :No.:  Soundwave fingered the edges of his visor again and sighed.  
    “Yes, now.”  She planted her fists on her hip joints.  “I’m not some roll of mesh you can just haul over your shoulder and carry off, Soundwave!”  
    :No.:  With that, he stood and strode toward the door, digits flicking at the feline drone.  
      
    He ignored her outraged shout and barely spared a glance at the little silver musician who poked his helm out the doorway at all the commotion.  The silent mech made his unhurried way toward the engineers’ lab and gingerly knocked on the blackened door frame.  
    Before he could question himself, a slightly singed helm poked out, bright blue optics widening at the sight of him.  
    “Soundwave, right?  Hold on, give me a kilk.”  He disappeared before the beast master could say anything.  
    “Alright, come on in.  I got the worst of it out of the way.”  
  
    Soundwave entered in trepidation.  Most, if not all, of the objects in the room were coated with a liberal dose of soot.  There seemed to be no reasoning for the piles of junk sitting around and Soundwave could not detect what was actual junk from the useful pieces.  Watching a bit of Wheeljacks’ armor smolder made him think the city mech didn’t know either.  
    “Lemme guess.  Your faceplate.”  He patted a stool and turned back to a whole wall of floor to ceiling shelves.  
      
    Soundwave stared at the stool for a long moment before gingerly sitting down, planting his peds as the legs wobbled.  
      
    “I don’t got much here but I think I got…ahah!”  He pulled out a piece of glass and a handful of viz cables.  Soundwave watched as he trotted back, snagging a tool box in his free servo as he came close.  The stout racer hooked a ped under the table and dragged out another stool before he plopped down himself.  He spent several seconds humming to himself, ignoring the other mech until he turned, quite suddenly.  
  
    Soundwave resisted the urge to lean away.  
  
    “I’m gonna hook it up to your aux vis socket.  The cables will have to be on the outside cuz these are a couple vorn old and I don’t got the newer streamline versions.”  He said as he hooked the unit on the side of Soundwaves' helm.  
    “Alright.  I don’t wanna clamp this on myself.  Don’t wanna force it.”  His helm protrusions blinked merrily as the silent mech took the glass and carefully fit it over his face plates.  
  
    The programs took a few kilks longer than he liked but then a hazy stat screen loaded and began downloading.  
    Soundwave sat for several seconds, tweaking and rearranging the settings and files until his visual center stabilized.  
    “Had another host model trade some of his spares to me.  Glad it came in handy.”  Wheeljack chirped cheerfully, watching the beast master rise to his peds with a short nod.  
  
    “Soundwave.”  The mech stopped before the doorway, turning his helm slightly to indicate that he was listening.  
  
    “City mech are funny.  They don’t understand or care to understand desert law.  They got their own ideas of right and wrong.”  He set the wrench he was holding into the tool box and picked up another tool, examining it in the light.  “Femmes are a different model altogether.  I suggest you talk it out with her.  She needs to hear you say why you’re taking her away from everything she knows.”  
  
    :Do you believe that I am incapable of taking care of my mate?:  
    “Don’t threaten me.  And the answer is no.  I believe you a quite capable of taking care of a mate.  But I don’t think she knows that she your mate.  And that ain’t fair to her.”  
    “I think she’s smart.  I think it’s crossed her processor.  But she needs to hear you say it.”  
  
    :A femme is no different from any other city mech.:  
      
    “Well…”  Wheeljack shrugged.  “You know what, you do what you do.  I think she’s gonna prove you wrong.  Sorry I won’t be able to see it but I think it’s a lesson you sorely need.”  He laughed.  
    “Femmes are a handful.  Always have been, always will be.”  He slammed the lid down on the box and leaned against the table chuckling.    
  
    “They’re just like a mech.”  
  
    Soundwave silently stalked away but not before he heard Wheeljacks’ parting shot.  
  
    “Only way different.”  
  
      
    Soundwave fumed on his way back to their rooms.  Tribal femmes were no different than  
mechs.  Some were sires, some were carriers.  The only things that were different between him and his mate where their places of sparking.  
  
    Right?  
  
    City and tribe where, of course, as different as the Twin Moons, he snorted.  The same intrinsically, but outwardly they each had something that made them unique.  
  
    Right?    
  
    Soundwave did not like being confused.  He liked things simple.  Hunt, fuel, shelter, recharge…rinse and repeat.  Throw in a mate and then fit in the sparking of newlings and Soundwave considered his function complete.  
    Pits in the Sands, he had even carried himself once!  It hadn’t been an enjoyable experience but it had been a duty he had gladly filled.  Snorting softly and adjusting his new visor to the lower light levels, he entered the housing wing and paused outside his own door way.  
    He could hear the femme muttering under her vocalizer and stomping about.  He brushed the processors of his drones and discovered they were on edge but not afraid.                  Interesting.  
    He brushed his own unease aside, figuring there was no difference in tribal mate and entered.  
    The femme turned in one smooth motion and hurled a tiny canister that had been sitting on the low table in the room previously.  It shattered into a hundred pieces as it ricocheted off the door frame and Soundwave reared back, optics wide under his visor.  
    “You’ve got a lot of ball bearings to come back in here after leaving me like that!”  She hissed.  
      
    “How dare you attack my convoy, kidnap me, and drag me half way across Cybertron!?”  She started to pace.  “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?!  Do you even care what my life is like?!”  
    “And then you sit there and pretend to not even understand what I’m saying!  That was the worst.  I felt stupid and that was humiliating.”  Bright blue tinged pink optics zeroed in on him and he actually looked away, chagrined.  
    The femme looked away, vents open and pumping hot air into the room.  Soundwave sat and listened, fighting his own coding that told him to go look after his mate.      
    City mechs are different.  One part of his processor whispered.  You aren’t in the city.  Another said.    
    He stayed where he was.  
  
    “I don’t know what the Pit you are thinking, taking me all the way out here but I am going home.”  Her helm shot up and fixed him with a determined stare.  
    :Desert Law:  
    “What.  Is.  That.”  She enunciated each word with a little bite at the end.  Soundwave covered his wince by shifting his weight nervously.  
    :The law of my clan, my people, the desert itself.  I admired your strength and cunning.  We fought and I bested you in combat.  Therefore your life is mine.:  He paused.  :You are everything I have been looking for in a mate.:  
    “Mate?”  She sputtered.  “You don’t know me.  You don’t know anything about me!”  
  
    :I want to.:    
  
    Silence settled around them.  Rust motes danced in the air and flitted through the beams of light like golden dust as it settled on still armor.  
    The blue and pink in her optics had blown out almost white and they flickered as she stared at him.  Her vents were so quiet, that if Soundwave closed his optics, he would think he was alone in the room.  
    “What about what I want?”  She asked quietly.  
    :What do you want?:  
    “I…” She suddenly paused and snapped her lip-plates shut, fixing him with a assessing look.  
    “I never wanted a mate.”  She said in a strong voice.  “I wanted to be useful.”  
          
    Soundwave cocked his helm at the strange word.  But he stayed where he was was, watching her as she started to pace again.  
    “Everyone thought I was too small to do anything but be a teacher or dancer.  Cycle formers either race on cycle tracks or they do menial, entertainment.”  Here she sneered.  “I wanted to do something, be something.  I joined the Elite Guard so that I could see the world and be apart of the force that protects Cybertron.  Then no body would think I was just a cycle-former that couldn’t accept her function as a racer or dancer or teacher.  I like my function.”  She faced him suddenly and jabbed a digit toward her winged sigil  “I don’t know if my superiors,”  Another strange word.  “…think I’m dead or what.”  
    She stopped in the middle of the room, her back to him, winglets quivering in the air.  Her helm turned and she glared at him over one shoulder pad.    
    “I want to leave.  I have a perfectly good function that doesn’t include being your mate.”  
      
    :It is too late.:  He answered quietly, holding up one servo as she whirled to confront him.  
    :I will not turn back during the wintering season.  We continue on to haven.  There, you shall learn of my people and you will teach me of your ways.  When the wintering ends, if you still wish, I will return you to your people.:  
    “That isn’t good enough!”  
    :You have accepted my gifts.  You must honor your word.:  
    “Gifts?  What gifts?”      
      
    He pointed to the hide wrapped horns silently.  The femme stared first at the bundle then at him.  Finally, she made a sound like a hiss and crossed her arms over her chest plates.  
    “How was I to know what those were for?”  
    :Does it matter?  You still accepted them and you still like them.:  Here a symbol like an simplified face plates with a dopey pleasant expression on it flashed across his visor.  
    “I was tricked.”  She muttered, a blush creeping across her cheeks.  
    :Perhaps.:  He agreed, rising and coming to stand next to her, careful not to loom over her.  He brushed gentle digits over her arm strut as she crossed them but she didn’t lean away.  She ruffled her plating but accepted the gentle stroking.  
    :Mates are protected, honored.:  He said quietly.  
    “A lot of city states say that.  Few mean it.”  She scoffed but her tension was easing, leaning more into the comfort Soundwave was providing.  
    :I know the desert has some strange ways to you, but I say what I mean.:  He sneered behind his mask.  :We know what a lie means and we do not speak it.  I will not lie to you.:  
      
    The femme glared at him from under her pink spire, ignoring the fact that she was now fully leaning into his frame, accepting the stroking that had moved from her arm struts to her shoulders and was now settling on her sensor rich winglets.  
    They twitched in his servos and fluttered with the rising purr of her engines.  Soundwave was fascinated by it but kept his petting soft and gentle.  
    “You kinda did, you know.”  She looked away.  “By not telling me you could speak my language…and with the pretty horns.”  
  
    Finally she did pull away and went to stand at the window.  The beast mech knelt into that curious pose of his and waited until silence settled between them.  
      
    “It looks like another storm is moving in.”  She said quietly.  
    :Yes.:  
    “How far?”  
    :An deca-cycle or two.:  His back spires flared and settled.  :Depends upon the pressure systems.:  
    “How far to your, umm, haven?”  Her face plates scrunched at the unfamiliar work but he made a gently pure tone of approval and she looked over her shoulder at him with a very small smile.  
    :An orn or two, depending on speed and the storm.:  
  
    She turned to look back out the window, venting hard.  “I shouldn’t.”  She whispered.  “I need to make it back to Iacon.”  
    “Are you sure you can’t let me leave?”    
    :No.:  
    “I won’t stop trying to get away.”  
    :You won’t make it back through the desert without my help.:  
    “That’s not fair you know.”  
    :As you have mentioned.:  He tapped his new visor.  The sound had her facing him and she blushed again, the shine on her faceplates brightening.  
    “You deserved it.”  She muttered.  
    :I did.:  He stood.  :Come, it is past time to fuel and we may gather a few supplies before we need to leave.  I do not wish to be forced to stay here through the storm season.:  
    “I’m not going to stop, you know.”  
    :I know.:  
    “I’m going to get away, I’m going to go back home.”  
    :I look forward to it.:  
  
    The blue femme stomped past him, her pink spire quivering in the air.  The silent mech trailed behind her, far enough away that his amused EM field didn’t touch hers.  He remained a silent shadow until they reached the common room, nodding to a curiously quiet Jazz and an still unnamed musician.  The pair were bent over a low table, instruments in their laps and scribbling madly on a plexi-sheet that had seen better days.  Jazz muttered and viciously stabbed at the sheet of plexi with a stylus like a sword through an opponent, his plating ruffling up even as the other stayed wisely silent.  
    The only other occupant of the room was the black and white Praxian who only gave the barest wing flick in their direction, studiously bent over his own project and trying to look like he was not laughing at the silver mechs’ expense.  A tray of colored and knotted silk strings sat in front of him, all tried and looped over a carved ring.  He carefully slid a bead onto a blue string, knotted it once than made a another knot a precise inch below it and sat it down.  
    Soundwave admired his dedication.  He himself barely had the patience for his own khipu to keep his tent in order.  It was obvious Prowl was someone of importance to keep a khipu that large.  
  
    The beast master moved past the femme before she could reach the dispensers and took the cube from her small digits.  “Really?”  She muttered under her vocalizer while he, after a bit of fumbling, drew her cube and his.  
    He quickly got the hang of the thing and then led them both to a low table further from the amused Praxian and the busy looking musicians.  Soundwave made a low gargling sound at the taste of the energon.  It was nasty.  How did one live off this stuff?  The femme drank hers down quickly, barely giving him a chance to feed her himself.  He let a low tone of disapproval slice the air but she only glared at him over the edge of her cube.  
    Unfortunately, the sound caught the attention of the now angry Jazz.  His armor puffed out and his audial flares quivered straight up in the air.  That bright blue visor had darkened to black glass in his frustration and now it was glowing white hot as it focused with laser intensity on the dark mech.    
    It was like being caught in a trap.  Soundwaves’ vocalizer made an aborted sound as that stylus jabbed in the air, straight at his spark.      
    “Tha’ sound,”  Jazz bared his denta.  “Do it again.”  
  
    Prowl had dropped his khipu and was now perched on the edge of his peds, ready to spring into action, not at the threat that was the snarling silver musician but at Soundwave.  His gold optics where hard chips of amber and his claws were just now sliding out.  
    The beast master raised his servos placatingly and made the sound again, focusing his gaze on the stylus that was more threatening that any weapon had ever been.  It bounced in the air, light flashing over it.  “That.”  Jazz snapped, like it make all the sense in the world.    
    And to him it did.  He went back to his plexi-sheet, armor now smooth and field now evened out into affability once more.  Soundwave and Prowl fluffed their armor out at each other with a confused ripple of fields and he even went so far as to shrug at the Praxian.  
    Your problem, not mine.  
  
    Prowl sheathed his claws and arched a brow plate but took his seat once more.  The femme had ducked into Soundwave’s shadow, eyeing the musicians from under his plating until the danger had passed.  
  
    Minor catastrophe averted, the silent mech and femme were ignored by the others even as they finished their fuel, stood and left.  He led the way down to the engineers’ lab and had managed to procure some small supplies in exchange for the pump and a few other odds and ends Soundwave kept in his subspace for this reason.  
    She kept quiet throughout the haggling and bartering.  Her silence unnerved him a little.  He guided her to the baths, saw to her cleaning and comfort, then returned to their room.  While she played with the quadraped drone, he carefully packed their few possessions.  He kept the rope, her gifts, and that Pit-forsaken box out.  Wheeljack stopped by with their items, gave a few last minute instructions he didn’t need to while making exaggerated brow waggles and light flickers at Soundwave in some attempt at communication.  
    He ignored the shorter mech.  
  
    The dark mech vented in relief as they passed outside the shadow of the odd little compound.  The femme turned to look over her pauldron and thought she glimpsed a flash of silver and a flutter of lavender.  She laughed, watching the musician hang from the window and wave his shawl through the air.  
    Lazerbeak was released to fly above them and Ravage had long since run off to hunt.  The rust red desert stretched for miles and miles of silent nothingness.    
  
    “Soundwave?”  Her quiet voice split the air, driving the mech from a deep reverie.  He made a humming noise to prove he was listening.  
    “Arcee.”  She tugged on the rope.  “My des is Arcee.  I expect you to use it from now on.”  
  
    All useful thoughts went right out of his helm as he spun around to face her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never had a chapter fight me so hard. I managed to win this one after writing and deleting it so many times. It got to the point where I could only write a sentence and then I had to leave it for the day, week, whatever. I have felled this not-so-mighty beast. Jazz kept wanting to steal the show so I had trade out some good stuff for later. I have the fanfic Wandering Sparks by Quiet Shadow to thank for tickling my brain on a 'book-keeping' system. I completely forgot about Incan khipus and I didn't particularly like scrolls for this story. I'm playing with a few ideas on it and it may change in the future.   
> Thanks!


	10. Intermission: The Answering Saga continues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more after this brief intermission!

    This is just a short intermission to answer questions and thank all you lovely people for taking the time to read and comment on my stories.  I am sorry for letting it pile up so I thought I would take the time to answer everyone’s questions before I begin my next chapter.  
  
  
risinggundam- Thank you for the feedback on the pacing.  Constructive criticism helps keep me on track.  I really like build-up in a story so my own writing tends to reflect that.  Things will progress and pick up and switching points of view helps me keep certain things in perspective.  Unfortunately for Jazz, Prowl, and the others, they won’t be showing up again in this story for a while.  I may bring them back in their own separate stories though.  
  
Optimus’+girl- Orion and Megatronus will be showing up soon but I have added a little twist to their story line.  I have a short intermission planned to give some ideas on what to expect for their story.  
  
TurboFerret- Worldbuilding is a lot of fun!  Making it alien but familiar enough to readers was the most interesting, and hard, part.  As for your question about Jazz, he does not know Prowl.  Prowl is merely treating him like he would any of his kinsman.  They all help each other but he doesn’t trust someone who is not a clansman near his wings.  I may write their own story separately since we won’t be seeing them for awhile in Deep Sands.  
  
MissSparkles-That is the hardest thing at this moment.  Does Arcee react physically or does she make him suffer?  What would be in original character versus what would she do in this world?  It’s a fine line but I will make sure he is punished.  (It has been answered!)  
  
Kokua_Aviatrix- Soundwave will learn many a lesson the hard way.  
  
Zarushin- Soundwave is freaking hard!  Jazz and Prowl will be back, in this story and probably their own story and it is indeed Bluestreak, even though he hasn’t been formally introduced yet.  
  
TurboFerret- I don’t know how professional writers do it, I really don’t.    
  
    Thank you everybody!!!


	11. Interlude: Megatronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a member of your tribe is missing, you do worry a bit.

  
    A single solitary figure stood at the edge of shadow and light, well hidden from searching optics and yet visible enough to those who knew where to look.  He was still and silent but there was a thread of unease coiling through his frame.  His shoulders were tense and his em field was crackling with subtle worry, anger, and restlessness.  Others were beginning to catch his unease though.  Orns had passed since the last of the tribe had entered haven but still the gunmetal mech had climbed up everyday to watch the shifting rust alone for a time.  Quietly he would leave his duties, only after it was complete of course, and ascend the rough hewn stair case to settle in the shadows and wait.  
    The first storm not three orn prior caused the rest of the gathered tribes to murmur nervously.  It was obvious the mech was waiting for someone.  Could the storm have killed them?  Losing a member of your tribe to an acid storm was a tragedy, even if you were rivals.    
  
    Megatronus ignored the whispers and sympathetic looks.  He hunkered down and rested his arm struts on his knee pads, red optics dimmed, and watched the shifting rust as the star Cybertron orbited set and the Twin Sisters rose.      
    A slight flicker out over the rust had him straightening.  He settled back when he realized it was just a figment of his imagination, watching the shifting sand just in case.  He narrowed his optics, focusing in on…nothing but a bit of scrap metal dropped, no doubt, from one of the many pack mechanimals on the way into haven.  A grumble cut through the descending silence.    
  
    A deep sigh parted his lip plates as the last of the light winked out past the horizon.  The Twin Sisters rose, throwing cold silver light over the barren landscape.  The mammoth mech stood before the cold light touched his armor, making his way down the shadowy stairs as quietly as he could.  Optics still dim, he passed other clans and tribes, all putting their possessions away for the dark cycle and entering well lit homes or far more decorative tents.  He nodded to the few guards still out and about.  He bowed his helm respectfully to an Elder as she shuffled past, her weight precariously pressed against one of her many many great grand sparklings.  The young mech gave him a pleading glance but the gunmetal mech just chuckled.  He too had once acted as a crutch for his own Elder, a feisty foulmouthed femme he still missed to this orn.  
    Silence settled over haven.  The beasts in their stables shifted and lowed into the night before they too settled down.  The off cycle was pressing against the inhabitants fretfully, making everyone seek shelter before the next big storm.  
    He continued on.  Soft light spilled from behind cloth covered doorways and cut swathes across his armor as he passed and his olfactory component twitched as he smelled meals being prepared.    
  
    Finally he reached a dimly lit and un-earthy silent doorway.  He paused, glancing over his pauldrons.  
  
    With a heavy sigh he turned to face the quiet silent doorway and pushed aside the decorated hanging that served as a door.  
   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, another Chapter! Later! Megatronus Interlude really wanted to be written.


	12. Time is running out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They come to an understanding but nature has a way of interfering.

    “He’s pouting, isn’t he?”  The quadraped’’s tail lashed across the sand.  Arcee cupped her chin in her servo and idly drew her digit through the rust, her optics locked on the dark mech sitting with his back to her, alone in the sand.  
    “He is pouting.”  She said a moment later, lip-plates pursing.  This time, the components in the drones’ optic band rolled to the side to focus on its master and then went dim again with a disgruntled sigh.    
    “Is this something he does often?”  Arcee asked, cocking a brow plate at the drone.  She didn’t really expect an answer but it was better than doing nothing.  
  
    Soundwave had stomped away like a petulant sparkling after she had finally told him her designation and proceeded to throw a very quiet temper tantrum for the rest of the cycle.  While setting up the tent, Arcee caught him muttering under his vocalizer the whole time, tossing their things inside in a fit of pique and generally behaving like a brat.  She tried to hide her giggles behind her servo only to laugh harder when that glass face plate swiveled around, a primitive symbol of an unhappy expression in glowing red on it.  Imagining the expression behind the visor had just set her off again and she had collapsed backward, off her perch on top of the box, clutching her sides.  
  
    Soundwave stormed off into the dunes and had thrown himself down, a dark silhouette against the lengthening night.  As the temperature had dropped, Arcee very much regretted teasing him.  
  
    And so he sat there.  Sitting.  And staring…and throwing pebbles he was digging up from the rust.  
  
    He lobbed one, all three set of optics watching it arch up into the clear cold night then disappearing out of sight.  He chucked another one, his sharp movement drawing Arcee out of her thoughts.  She watched it fall much shorter than the other.  At that moment, her own aimless doodles pulled up a little pebble and she turned it over in her digits, musing.  
    When he tossed another pebble, she chucked her own projectile at his helm and had the satisfaction of watching it bounce harmlessly off one of spires with a satisfying ping.  
  
    He jerked and started to turn but then stopped himself and, with a flutter of his spires, went back to pouting.    
    “Oh, for Primus’s drooping clusters!”  She snarled, getting to her peds.  Winglets quivering, she marched over to the seated mech.  
    “This is absolutely ridiculous.  You are a grown mech.”  She poked him with the tip of her ped.  “It’s not the end of the world just because I told you my designation.  Eventually, you were gonna have to start using it.”  Her stern expression dropped as he actually batted her ped away.  
  Arcee cocked her hip rotators and propped her servo on it, tapping her chin a she eyed him up and down.  
      
    “Alright, Soundwave, this has gone far enough.”  She moved to stand in front of him.  The beast master shifted his weight around until only his shoulder was facing her.  Arcee made a strangled sound and looked to the drones for help but the quadraped merely rolled to it’s other side…away from her.  
    “Some help you are.”  The blue femme muttered.  “Fine, I can deal with the overgrown sparkling myself.”  
  
    She neatly folded her struts under her to perch delicately on the rust in front of him and then poked him.       
    “Whats the deal, con?”  She jabbed her digit into a opening in his knee guards, stabbing at sensitive wires inside, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to get his attention.  Still facing away from her, his arm came up and neatly deflected hers to the side.  
    “I’m not gonna leave you alone until you answer my question.”  She poked him again, this time in the elbow joints.  He made a low sound, like a grumble.    
    “I know it was something important to you ‘cause you never let me say my des once this whole time.”  She rolled her optics up.  “But it went completely over my helm so help me out here.  I’m trying to understand, really.”  
  
    Soundwave flared his armor, trying to intimidate her.  
  
    “Don’t do that, I’ll just poke you again.”  She said dryly, completely unimpressed, and did it anyway.  “Come on Soundwave.”  Arcee cajoled.  
  
    :Giving your new mate your designation is the last part of the courting.:  She jumped at his sudden, quiet voice.  
    “And?”  
    :And then we would interface.:  He turned his visor toward her briefly.  
    “Oh.”  His EM field gave hers a little shove and she sat back, blue pink optics troubled.    
  
    They sat like that for as the Twin Sisters rose.  Her sudden explosive sigh startled him and he looked at her, a questioning buzz in his field.  
    “Aren’t we a pair?”  She gave a little laugh as she shifted so she was sitting beside him.  The blue femme leaned lightly against his larger frame, comforting without being sensual.  Arcee was desperate for tactile comfort, having spent most of her formative vorns with her batch mates in a large cuddle pile whenever one of them needed it.  Soundwave huffed air out his vents, tilting his spires at an inquisitive angle but he didn’t move.  He neither pushed her away nor drew her close and she was rather grateful for that, uncertain how she would feel if either had happened.  
    :When bringing in someone who is not clan, the clans member would wait until the new member was surrounded by his or her people before saying their designation.:  He fished out another pebble and flicked it away.  :So the whole clan would now know it.:  
    She made a humming sound in her vocalizer.  “You were waiting until we got to wherever, before getting my designation, because you still think I’m going to go along with this whole mate thing.”  A frown crossed her face-plates.  “I distinctly remember a conversation about that.”  
    :As do I.:  He reached up to brush digit tips across his visor.  His servo dropped back down.  :It is hard to stop tribe-coding.”  The dark helm tipped to look at her.  :Hard to stop city-code too.:  
    A brow plate rose up and she looked him up and down.  “Drawing parallels, Soundwave?  Fine.  Try it.  I’m still going to want to go home no matter what you do.”  She jutted her chin in the air, glaring at him out of the corner of her optics.  
    His shoulders shook in what she knew was his silent laugh.  
  
    “What else are you supposed to do for me?”  She asked into the silence, hoping to draw him into more conversation.  For someone who liked her quiet, Soundwave’s long silences made her actually want to talk, hum, anything to fill in the unending nothing.  He had gone back to throwing the pebbles again but with less force and he hummed at her question.  
    :Gifts, trophies, sweets…all of which are at haven.:  He shrugged, careful not to dislodge her.  :I have been collecting my gifts for vorns.:  He added.  
    “Oh?”  Prompted Arcee, curious despite herself.    
    :I have woven several shawls to keep the rust from chipping away at your finish.:  Soundwave paused and let his EM field flutter at hers, teasingly.  
    :Do you want to see them?:  
  
    She gave him a sour look and he made that almost-there chuckle.    
    :To be a good mate, I would have to hunt for your trophies on our courting journey.:  
    “Like the hide and horns?”  
  
    He hummed a reply instead of answering, rolling another pebble in between his digits.    
  
    “You’re recharging on the other side of the tent, just so you know.”  Arcee murmured, dumping a small servo-ful of pebbles she had gathered beside him as she stood.  She didn’t flick the rust off her armor onto his, oh no!  That would be rude, but she did shove a heavy pauldron out of her way.  
    “Stop pouting, it’s getting too cold out here.”  
  
    His chuckle followed her into the tent.  
  
    He did not try to feed her but he did hand her the proto-flesh in his own measured time.  The dark mech made a small hollow beside his own recharge area and kept his touch chaste as he oh-so-gentlemechly handed her down into it.  Her field buzzed with embarrassment and a flicker of ‘not impressed’    
    “Did we ever find out what those Seekers wanted?”  She burst out, optics searching for anything to avoid looking at him. Soundwave hummed and handed her an soft embroidered pillow.  
    :I did not press but I believe they were searching for a member of the Praxian tribe.  An dishonored mech who could not, or would not trine.:  His helm cocked to the side.  :I am not certain of the particulars.  Seeker and Seeker-kin code elude me still, though we share a pact with Vos…on occasion.:  
    “On occasion?”  Arcee pulled her knee pads up and laid her chin guard on them.  
    :Vosians and Praxians are warriors at spark.  Their code is even deeper than tribe.  While we share a treaty with them, the Seekers and Seeker-kin do not travel as we do.  They prefer to stay in the Manganese Mountains to the north of us.  They watch both the Badlands and the northern most trade routes.:  He plucked a heavy, steel wool blanket from the pile and wrapped it around his shoulder pads.  The femme made a disgruntled sound and when Soundwave looked up, she was glaring at him fiercely.  He refrained from chuckling.  With a challenging thrum of his engine, he held his arm struts out.  
  
    Arcee collided with him and nuzzled her helm under his chin in apology at his grunt.  
  
    “So they were hunting down a mech?”  She asked once he settled the blanket around her.  
    :It would appear so.  In most cases, they would have let the desert deal with him but he seems to have stolen something of value from the Praxian elders which would now make him a pariah.  No one will help him.:  He paused.  :Unfortunately, I believe he may have spent some time with the city mech…”  
    “Wheeljack.”  
    :…at the way station.  Wheeljack was uncommunicative.:  
    “What does that mean?”  
    :The mech may have taken refuge with Wheeljack at the same time that the music makers…:  
    “Musicians.”  
    :…and spent time in their company.:  
    “And thats…bad?”  
    :It could be if the Praxians demand reparations.  They may chose to take something in return.:  Here he shivered.  :They are not evil but the desert is still a hard place to live.  They may chose to take a life.:  
  
    He felt her optics on him, studying, judging his words.  “You mean they might kill one of them just because they spent the night together?”  Her tone was devoid of emotion.      
    His arms tightened around her.  :I know not what he took that could cause such a deep seated animosity.  The mech would have to do something truly heinous for such a punishment.:  
    “Nothing on this planet would be…”  
    :Killing a newling could.  Hurting a sparkling…there are many things we do not tolerate in the desert.:  
    “So they’re gonna kill a mech for stealing or they might kill a completely innocent mech who had nothing to do it?!”  
    “That sounds disgraceful.”  She snorted.  
    :Are the cities so lawless then?  Do you get away with anything and everything?:  He asked, shifting to lay down.  
    “Of course not!”  The blue femme remained upright and used her position to glare down at him.  “We have civilized laws that make it impossible to kill a mech before a fair trial.  And we don’t kill innocent mechs just because they plugged in with the guilty mech.”  
    The silence stretched between the two mecha.  The drone by the canvas flap that served as a door watched the silent desert, pinging a note to its host that clouds were gathering on the horizon before falling silent as well.  
    :I suppose that sounds reasonable.:  Soundwave conceded at last, watching the femme relax a tiny bit.  :It is late now and the Seekers-kin are no longer our problem.  It is time for recharge.:  
    “Right.”  Arcee stepped down into her hollow, grinning at his groan.  “I meant what I said, Soundwave.  I’m not charging with you.”  
    She listened to him grumble for a time before her recharge protocols finished initializing and dropped her down into stasis.  
  
    Only kilks seemed to pass before she was violently jolted online.  Soundwave shoved the box in her arms as his drone docked into his back struts. Outside their flimsy protection raged a relentless acid storm and Arcee cried out when the canvas door was flung aside and acid landed on her armor.  Soundwave field buzzed against hers, heavy bare servos swiping before the acid could eat it’s way through her armor.  
    :Lash the box to my back.:  He turned and presented his back to her, continuing to shove their other possessions in his subspace.    
    “What’s happening?!”  She asked as she complied, blue pink optics wide.  She flinched as a loud rumble of thunder rolled over their heads.  
    :Storm season is upon us early this vorn.:  He said grimly, standing and offering her some jars and her bundle of gifts.  :Store these in your subspace.  We must leave the low plains to avoid the flash floods.:  
    “We can’t go out in that!”  Her shout was drowned out by another roll of thunder.  
    :We must reach haven.  We have no other choice.:  Soundwave stood up and grabbed the support pole of the tent.  
    Arcee shouted even as he tugged, bringing the whole structure down.  With a twist, the dark mech grabbed her up and tucked the acid resistant fabric around them, hissing as it burned his uncovered leg armor.  

  
    Standing with the tent covering him from helm to peds and the lithe femme completely covered in the acid resistant cloth, he took a moment to gain his bearings.  Remembering the placement of the stars took longer than it should have with the roiling blackness of the clouds.  He felt a brief flare of panic in his spark that was answered by a soft question in Arcee’s field and then he wrestled for control.  Tucking his helm against hers, Soundwave plowed through the acid and the rust.  Behind the glass of his visor, he grit his denta as the acid began to slowly burn then eat away at the uncovered bits of his armor.  He needed to get to higher ground…or haven.  

  
    Maybe back to Wheeljacks?  He swiveled his helm around, plotting the stars in his processor.  No, he couldn’t risk getting lost now.  The storm was playing havoc on his sensors and he doubted he could find his way back.  

   
    The tribes-mech began to move quickly, attempting to keep an optic on his surroundings but it was like walking into a black hole.  The was no definition between sky and ground.  He could be walking out in the Badlands or into sulfur quicksands.  A shudder rippled through his frame and he clutched the femme in his arms tighter.  He felt down the links to his two drones and attempted to soothe their unease.  The rust slipped from under ped and he went down on one knee pad, grinding his denta as acid and rust seeped into the seams.  When he lifted his helm, he realized the glass had melted and was now mixing with the acid to trickle down his face-plates.

    
    The burning was slowly becoming pain.  No other thought crossed his processor, just get to haven.  He never even registered the changing landscape, the slight incline in the ground.  He did hear the soft whispered encouragement of the femme, felt her arm slide around his neck strut and squeeze gently.  He grunted as the rust slipped again and this time, he tumbled down the embankment.  With a yelp, Soundwave tucked his frame around her as they rolled.  
    “We have to stop!”  She yelled over the hissing and the thunder where they lay at the bottom of a slowly eroding dune.  She squirmed under the fabric, trying to get out but Soundwave used his greater mass to pin her against him.  He ponderously rose to his peds, growling at the burning pain, and began to run up the rust dune.  
  
    He didn’t stop running.     
        
    Her cries became screams.  
  
    The fabric was falling away.    
  
    The drones were panicking.  
  
    He saw bits of armor falling away, saw the wisps of smoke.  
  
    He thought he saw light and heard voices.    
      
    Echoes like walls had surrounded them.  
  
    Soundwave rushed the last few mecha meters into haven, New Kaon, before collapsing at the feet of his tribe, slipping in blessed oblivion.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thou art beaten, wicked chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I am using certain phrases to describe the difference in tribal languages versus city. For example, in this world, city mechs call a spring with running 'water' and green plants an Oasis but the tribes would call it something else since they don't use the same language. I will also do the same with colors.


End file.
